


Heartbeats

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Dark, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Angst, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injured Oliver, Jealous Felicity, Jealous Oliver, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Smut, Stripper Oliver, it's light but it's there in chapter 17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 107,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My shamelessly unadulterated collection of Olicity smut. That's all this is. Anything is possible.</p><p>Recent additions:</p><p>36) AU. Professor Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak, his TA. (In The Classroom)<br/>37) AU, one-shot. Oliver and Felicity are neighbors. And Oliver happens to be a stripper.<br/>38) Prompt: Felicity packing for a business trip and Oliver seeing vibrator in her bag.<br/>39) Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253/chapters/9236347">Chapter 28</a>. "Only I get to touch."<br/>40) AU. Professor Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak, his TA. (In The Library)<br/>41-42) <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6303217">Across The Hall</a> ficlets.<br/>43) 3x20 "morning after" scene.<br/>44) Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253/chapters/8228896">Chapter 8</a>. Alternate Season 5 feat. jealous/possessive Oliver and Detective Malone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laundry Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, one-shot. “Really? On the washer?”

She could feel him watching her.

She didn't have to look over to know his eyes were glued to her as she moved around the tiny laundry room, filling each washer - one with darks, one with lights, and one with her delicates, which had grown an alarming amount since she had started dating him. She hadn't thought she'd be the type of girlfriend who spent exorbitant amounts of money on lacy under things, but it had taken one night of him seeing her in the only sexy pair of matching lingerie she had to change her mind on that one.

Felicity shivered at the memory.

Dinner was supposed to lead to a movie, but it had actually led to the car which had led them straight to her apartment. She'd been unlocking the door, eyes half-hooded as he pressed the thick hardness in his pants against her ass, the flirty thin material of her dress suddenly feeling like tissue paper between them. His hand had slid up her arm, his palm warm and gentle, before sliding across her chest and underneath her dress, fingers skimming over the soft lace to cup her breast. Her breath had hitched, her hips pressing back against him more urgently as his fingers dipped under the demi-cup, finding her nipple.

She'd dropped her keys when he’d grazed the hard nubbin, his mouth on her bare shoulder, his other arm wrapping around her waist, yanking her back against him, nearly lifting her off her feet.

When they'd finally gotten inside - after it had taken her more than a minute to articulate that she had dropped the keys through the hazy fog his fingers were creating - he'd had her dress undone, his fingers brushing across her back, leaving a trail of fire in his path that had her panting his name before his mouth followed the trajectory of the zipper.

_His lips dragged down her spine, bringing every single nerve to life under his touch; she felt every puff of air, every graze of his nose, the brush of the soft callouses on his fingers from all that ridiculous archery of his as he tugged the dress down her body._

_He kneeled behind her, sliding the dress down her legs to pool at her feet._

Felicity licked her lips, concentrating on putting the quarters in their slots on the washer, but her fingers were shaking, the coins becoming slippery.

Oliver's intense gaze on her back where he sat waiting for her was _not_ helping. Laundry time was precious time, she always came in the middle of the night when it was deserted and she could babysit her clothes without company. She should have left him upstairs.

She finally got the quarters in one washer, and she shoved the lip in, changed the washer settings and hit Start.

His eyes burned a hole in her back and heat pooled in the pit of her stomach. 

_His mouth grazed the top of her bottom, his tongue tracing the line of the lace thong, his hands gripping her hips. The simultaneous hard grip and soft touch was overwhelming as his thumbs kneaded her ass, spreading her cheeks, his fingers pressing almost painfully against her hip bones. He pushed his face against her lower back, his stubble scraping the sensitive skin there, making her shiver with a soft, “Aah.”_

_He kissed her hip and dragged his lips down, leaving a light trail with his tongue where he pressed his lips to one cheek._

_"Felicity," he whispered, need making his voice rough. She loved when he said her name like that; like it was a prayer._

_He helped her step out of her dress and turned her so she was facing him. His large hands gripped her waist, sliding down slowly over her hips and thighs, his eyes locked on hers. He stared at the bra with hooded eyes, and she felt his heated gaze when he looked at the matching panties, nearly coming apart when he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and met her gaze again._

_Felicity fought to breathe normally, looking down at him as he slid his hands up her thighs, his fingers gliding under the straps of her thong. He kept going, his eyes locked on hers, dragging the thin material up, the already-soaked panties rubbing deliciously against her sensitive folds. His eyes stayed on her as he leaned forward, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across her stomach before he twisted his fingers, pressing the thong up harder so it slipped between her puffy lips and pressed right against her tender clit._

Felicity shifted, rubbing her thighs together.

_She let out a choked gasp, her hands flying to cover his. Her head dropped back as he twisted the material further, her hair cascading down her back, tickling her skin, a heady combination as Oliver pressed the thong up higher, rubbing it against her swollen flesh until her hips started to move in time with his ministrations before he suddenly stopped._

_“Oliver,” she whispered pleadingly. He groaned when she rotated her hips, seeking more friction._

_He stood suddenly, making her gasp, his hand sliding up her back and into her hair, his other reaching around to grab her ample ass._

_When she started to shake off her heels, he stopped her._

_"Leave them."_

Felicity shivered again, feeling like his eyes were nailing her in place.

Oliver really should not have come down here.

The man just had to exist and he distracted her.

It was entirely unfair to look that good at one in the morning, sitting in a crappy foldout chair in the dingy basement of her apartment building in pajamas, surrounded by crumbling concrete walls and the outrageously loud roar of the old washers starting to rumble to life. She had once asked Garry, the building manager, how old the washers were and he’d said they were there when he’d started, which was in the 90’s.

They worked, but with lots of protest.

She was on the third machine - wow, she was only on the third one, why was it taking her so long to put quarters into these things - when she felt Oliver move; how in the world she was so attuned to him was beyond her, but she felt like she was actually facing him and watching his movements, knowing where he was going to be before he did.

Felicity paused, her hand hovering over the coin dispenser, and she didn’t have to wait long as her back burned with awareness. She jumped when his mouth pressed against her shoulder. He leaned in behind her, trapping her in his arms as he braced himself against the washer, not touching her.

He leaned forward enough to press his lips to her ear. 

“You’re blushing,” he said, his voice so low she barely heard it over the loud rumbles of the washers.

“The circulation isn’t that good down here, Oliver,” she replied breathlessly. That wasn’t a lie. When more than two of the dryers were going, it turned into a sauna.

“You don’t look _flushed_ , Felicity,” he said, his voice roughening. He stepped closer and pressed the full length of his body to hers and she nearly dropped all her quarters. “You’re blushing.”

Felicity made a sound and Oliver lifted the hair off her neck, pushing it to one side. He trailed a finger down from her ear to her collarbone and instead of dropping the coins, she clenched them into a tight fist; so hard it hurt.

“When you blush, your skin turns pink, all the way up to here,” Oliver said as he dragged his finger across her skin and back up the column of her neck. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Felicity said, forcing her hand to relax. She moved to grab another coin but it slipped from her fingers and hit the top of the washer with a loud clang, making her jump. 

“Here, let me help,” Oliver said. He reached around her and took four quarters with annoyingly steady hands and placed them in the dispenser and pushed the lip in. He’d clearly been paying enough attention to know she was on the lights, because he put in all the correct settings and pressed Start.

The machine shot to life, sending a course of vibrations right through her, heading straight for her center. She gasped, clenching the quarters into a tight fist.

Oliver pressed her further against it as it filled with water and she wiggled against him.

“Oliver, we’re in public,” she said, her voice husky and sounding like she did not care about that _at all_.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he replied, his teeth finding her earlobe, and she shuddered, before she shouldered him off. She was ready to give him a lecture on the decency of public displays of affection when the machine suddenly stopped filling with water, and a second later it started to shake as the agitation cycle began.

Felicity let out a gargled gasp, dropping the remainder of the quarters, all of them slapping the top of the washer with sharp clangs.

She let out a soft, “Oh frak,” that ended in breathy gust of air when Oliver bent down, his hand finding her bare thigh, sliding up and under her simple cloth skirt.

Felicity held her breath, waiting, and she bit her lip to keep from smiling when he froze behind her.

Oliver's eyebrows rose, his lips tugging back in a slow smile as his hand skimmed over her very bare ass before moving to her very bare sex. She felt the hitch in his breathing when his fingers slid across the wetness waiting for him.

“It’s laundry night,” she said by way of explanation, her lips curled in a smile.

He inhaled quickly, his fingers curling into her bare hip. She felt his cock swelling behind her, and she stood up on her toes to get closer to him, making him grunt something intelligible.

“Don’t move,” he whispered harshly into her ear, and then he was gone.

She barely had time to brace herself on the rumbling washer - which was still sending very, very pleasant vibrations that felt like they were living in her bones, centering between her legs; maybe she should have worn underwear, she thought, as she shifted, everything feeling very slick down there - and turned to see where he had gone.

Oliver shut the door to the laundry room and braced the foldout chair against the door handle.

Realization dawned on her as Oliver turned back to her, his eyes dark with lust, an intensity in his face she hadn’t seen in a while.

“Oliver-”

He didn’t let her finish. Instead he swept the quarters off the washer and hopped on top of it before wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her up on top of him.

“Oliver!” Felicity snapped, bracing herself on his shoulders as she tugged her against him. She straddled him - because _balance_ \- but she didn’t let him pull her hips down to meet his. The washer rumbled beneath them, and it traveled up her legs, only reminding her she was very naked under that skirt. “Really, Oliver? On the washer?”

Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her before he gripped her hips and jerked her down, forcing them together. The thin pajama pants he was wearing did nothing to hinder the hard length that pressed up into her naked sex. Her eyes fluttered shut as she arched into his touch, her fingers curling into tight fists in his t-shirt as the washer jumped underneath them. She felt the vibrations through her legs and through him, amplified by the tight grip he held on her.

“Are you complaining?” he asked, his voice low and heavy with insinuation.

She let out a breathy air of protest before shaking her head with a, “Nope.”

A quick grin sliced across his lips and he reached up, cupping her cheek, pulling her mouth to his.

Felicity moaned, cradling his face, his tongue slipping out to meet hers the same time hers did. He growled, his fingers tangling in her hair when she tightened her thighs around him, rotating her hips and mewling as a streak of hot pleasure shot straight to her core.

He pressed her down harder, his hips thrusting up to meet hers as the kiss turned more urgent and rushed.

Oliver shoved her skirt up to her waist and pulled back to shimmy the pajama pants down.

Felicity giggled when he cursed, the look of concentration on his face frightening in its force as he wiggled out of his pants, and she laughed at his grunt of exasperation when his pants got caught on his cock before it sprang free, all his movements jerky and uncoordinated from the washer underneath them.

“You’re awfully growly considering this was your idea,” she said and he shot her a look before he smiled. 

“I’m just glad I’m not wearing underwear,” he said, pulling her back for another kiss as his pants bunched uncomfortably underneath her thighs before she slipped into his lap again, her wet sex sliding against his bare cock. They both gasped and Felicity’s eyes fluttered shut as she arched her back, pressing up and down his length. His hands slid up her hips and over her waist, circling her ribcage, his fingers tightening as she moved against him.

“Felicity,” he whispered, his voice strangled, and she used his shoulders to brace to lift herself, the head of his cock brushing through her wetness, missing her entrance and instead sliding up against her clit, making her hips jerk. He reached between them and pressed it home and she didn’t waste one second, pressing down, taking him in to the hilt as he filled her.

She didn’t move for a moment, letting her body acclimate to him, and she watched him clench his jaw, his fingers digging into her ribs. His eyes flickered down her body, to where they were joined. He shoved her skirt up further before he looked back up at her, the heat in his gaze scorching. Her thighs tensed as she slowly lifted her hips and thrust back down, and he clenched his jaw tighter, watching her through hooded eyes as she started to ride him.

She slowly picked up speed, her lips parted in broken pants, the gentle vibrations making her feel like all her nerves were slowly morphing into live wires. Everywhere he touched, she felt like her skin was burning. His lips found her pulse point, and she ducked her head down to nip at his ear before pushing him back so she could find that one spot on the side of his neck that made him…

“Felicity,” he hissed slowly, dragging her name out, his fingers pressing into her so hard they were going to leave bruises.

The washer suddenly stopped beneath them. Her skin felt like it was echoing the vibrations it had left behind before it started to tremble as it entered its spin cycle. 

The vibrations were more pronounced this time around, and Felicity let out a jerky moan, trying to right her breathing, but she had already been so primed and she moaned again, pleasure rapidly coiling inside her as the washer rumbled violently beneath them.

“Oh… god,” she moaned, and Oliver wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush to his chest as he lifted her, and slammed her back down.

Felicity wrapped her arms around his head, feeling his uneven breaths against her neck as she concentrated on the white hot pleasure starting to burn in the pit of her stomach.

For those delicate few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of Oliver’s breathing, her harsh gasps, his tight hold on her, her nails digging in his shoulders and scalp, the washer jerking underneath them as her hips worked them both up until…

“Ooh!” Felicity yelped, her orgasm ripping through her. Oliver’s fingers found her clit, pushing her higher. Her walls pulsed around him as she came again, and she barely felt his forehead pressing into her chest, his fingers clawing into her back as his hips jerked up against her, chasing his end, making the washer move even more before he exploded inside her, her name a litany on his lips.

Felicity felt like she was floating, aware of nothing else but that she was content and warm, safe and in the arms of the man she loved…

She’d flown apart at the seams… leaving her skin feeling like it had been doused in acid as the washer’s unrelenting cycle continued. The vibrations coursed through both of them, irritating every inch of her sensitive skin.

“Felicity,” Oliver groaned, shifting underneath her and she lifted herself off with shaky thighs. He slid out of her, his trembling hands squeezing her hips at the loss before he helped her off the washer.

All their strength from earlier was gone and she stumbled, nearly falling right off the washer. She grabbed it for balance as Oliver slid off next, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Oh wow,” she whispered as Oliver offered his hand to her. She took it and he wrapped his arms limply around her. “That was… wow.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. His heart was racing under her ear, his skin sticky with sweat and he pressed a sloppy kiss to the top of her head, pleasantly numb contentedness whispering through her.

“So…” Felicity said, licking her lips. “Wanna help me with laundry next Tuesday too?”

The End

*

[The Fuckening Fic Drive](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/the-fuckening-fic-drive)

I'm [dust2dust34](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr - come say, "Howdy!"


	2. Late-Night Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver gets called to a late emergency board meeting, leaving Felicity on her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: A happy magical place that is post-S2 where Felicity and Oliver are together. Oh, and that beautiful deleted scene with the kiss? Totally happened in this ‘verse.
> 
> Once again, I’m too excited to wait to post this. All mistakes and choppy writing are mine.

The room was dark, the only light coming from her flickering television, images of the first romantic comedy that had been listed in that category on Netflix splashing against the dark walls. It was on mute, leaving nothing else but the soft sound of her gentle breathing, the rustling of her sheets when she shifted on the bed, and the sound of popcorn crunching as she shoveled another handful into her mouth.

“Oh, Antoine,” Felicity said in a hushed whisper, emphasizing her words dramatically through a mouthful of mottled kernels. “But can’t you see? I love you.”

She watched for a second.

“Hmm, lucky me. Lay one on me,” she said, deepening her voice as the main romantic interest implored soundlessly to the helplessly clueless protagonist. She followed the action, grabbing another handful of popcorn. Waiting for the appropriate moment, she found it and said, “And don’t call me Antoine. My name is Wally.”

She switched characters. “Yes, I know, but how can I love a man named Wally?”

Tonight was supposed to be the night.

Alright, The Night had already happened many moons ago, but this was supposed to be another _the night_. A date night, a night that was just for them. No Arrow business, no Queen Consolidated business, just _them_ business. That is until Oliver had gotten a call for an emergency board meeting well over two hours ago.

After thirty minutes of nothing, she’d traded in the pinching bra for one of Oliver’s t-shirts and the thong for plain ol’ panties. After an hour, she’d turned the TV on to see one of her favorite movies of all time playing, only to change it because it was the kind of movie that deserved to be properly watched from the beginning, which ended with her picking the first movie that popped up on Netflix.

And now here she was, two hours later, quoting that movie with another on silent, her popcorn getting cold and hard, and still no Oliver.

She was more proud of him than she could ever express since they had gotten the company back - since _he_ had gotten the company back - because he had done it all on his own. After he had defeated Slade, after order had come back to Starling City, and after they had come back from Lian Yu, things had been different.

And she wasn’t just talking about the love declaration or the kiss that had made her legs feel like they were going to fall right off, but _he_ had changed.

Something had clicked in him, like a realization he hadn’t even realized he’d been seeking… She had been perfectly fine going on as if nothing had happened, because she had honestly thought nothing had happened. He had said those things to fool Slade, so he would come for Felicity, ensuring he didn’t go after Laurel…

It had taken them nearly three months and a lot of ‘acting like damn idiots’ - per Diggle - for anything to happen, and it finally had when they’d been watching a movie at her apartment, out on the couch, laying perfectly comfortable and content as friends are apt to do when she’d shifted her legs, pressing her feet against his thigh.

He’d laid his on her bare ankle, and she’d frozen, but when it didn’t move again, she’d relaxed… until she had to move again - which had nothing to do with the fact that she had been hyperaware of everything Oliver, from how many breaths he was taking, to the tiniest movement of his fingers on her ankle bone, to when his right foot moved a centimeter, to when he huffed in laughter at the television… 

Felicity had stretched her leg, pressing against him, and his hand had _tightened_ … and somehow they ended up making out like the source of all mankind’s air was down each other’s throats, nearly falling off the couch in the process.

Her phone let out a delightful chime and Felicity nearly knocked the popcorn bowl off the bed as she dove for her phone.

_O: Should be done soon_

_F: Hope the board appreciates these sacrifices_

_O: New company rule effective tomorrow: no more bullshit meetings in the middle of the night_

_F: :P_

_O: :)_

Felicity smiled, shaking her head. Oliver using any sort of smiley face never failed to make her smile, turning the entire thing into a vicious smiling cycle that he was only too aware of. He was ridiculously proud of his ability to just find the vast amount of emojis on his phone, much less use them.

She put it aside, reaching for more popcorn when her phone chimed again.

_O: What are you wearing?_

Felicity made a face at her phone; it was a mix of a concerned furrowed brow - he was in a meeting, and he did need to be paying attention - and a smile that she was trying to not let break her face - because her boyfriend wanted to know what she was wearing. It wasn’t something they’d ever done, or tried, mostly because they saw each other literally every single minute of the day…

Still, a board meeting was not the time for something like sexting, especially since there was still the delicate question of, ‘Is Oliver Queen going to railroad the company again?’

And she would need to write an apology note to her future-self because present Felicity was going to be a bit of a buzzkill.

_F: Are you still in the meeting?_

_O: Yes_

_F: Then I’m wearing a potato sack. Pay attention_

_O: :(_

Felicity laughed and put the phone aside, looking back at the TV when it chimed again.

_O: Felicity. What are you wearing_

Despite herself, a heated thrill shot through her, and she shifted on the bed. She could hear him asking it perfectly; his voice would get deeper, softer, the voice he always used when he wanted something from her.

She could just imagine him, sitting at the head of the table, his phone in his lap, listening to the drone of the board members half-heartedly, his face perfectly stoic as he texted her.

She bit her lip, cocking her head. She shouldn’t be encouraging this, he was the one always going on about how much he had to do at the office during the day.

Still… he had asked.

_F: One of your shirts_

_O: Which shirt_

_F: Kings_

_O: The torn one?_

She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as she smiled. It was her favorite shirt, and subsequently his favorite on her. It was one he had had for years, so worn through in some spots it was amazing the material still held together. All the edges were fraying with a large hole in one armpit, and in the right light you could see right through it, something he delighted in.

Like the one night in the living room when he’d had his hand through that tear and he’d teased and tugged on her nipples until they were swollen to twice their normal size, until they were very, very visible through the Kings logo. When she’d tried to touch him in return, he’d trapped her arms at her sides with his ridiculously muscled thighs, playing with her breasts until they were so sensitive that when he blew across the top of her chest, she felt bit of it.

“Okay, that’s just cruel,” she whispered, squeezing her thighs closer together, ignoring the tingling in her nipples at the memory. She licked her lips as she remembered how the rest of the night had progressed, from her twisting over and returning the favor, before slipping further down and licking every inch of his cock until he came, to when he’d pulled her back into his lap and sucked on her nipples through the shirt until all it took was a flick of her clit to send her crumbling into pieces in his arms. 

_F: You know it’s my favorite_

_O: Is that all?_

_F: Panties too_

_O: Take them off_

“What?” she asked the screen, and she laughed. “Oliver…”

Like he knew exactly how she was reacting, he texted,

_O: Off_

For a second, she considered it. Her fingers tingled as she rotated her hips, thinking back to the three fingers Oliver had had buried inside her that morning.

She knew he had to be bored, but she also knew that he needed to be paying attention. Whenever emergency board meetings were called, it was usually for a reason. A really, really crappy reason, if she had anything to say about it that night, but a reason nonetheless. Sometimes it was an issue with investor, or a public relations fiasco, or some weird inter-office scandal that couldn’t wait until the daylight hours… whatever it was, the CEO of the company was called in for a reason.

And that reason was not to sext his girlfriend during said meeting.

_O: You’re thinking too much_

Felicity scoffed at the phone. “I am not.”

_F: They’ll be off when you get home. Now pay attention_

_O: Felicity_

_F: I’ll be waiting_

_O: You’re mean_

She chuckled.

_O: Be done soon_

_F: :D_

_O: They better be off_

_F: Yes sir_

He didn’t respond. When her phone didn’t chime again, she finally put it aside.

Ignoring the slickness pooling between her legs, Felicity turned back to the movie, but it had lost all of its appeal. She switched Netflix off and started flipping through the channels, feeling an annoying disappointment settling in when her phone still didn’t chime.

A few minutes passed of her being overly aware of the dull throb starting to build between her legs and not seeing anything on the television before she glanced at her phone, which was still not making a sound.

Dang it. Yes, past-Felicity _was_ a buzzkill. No, she was a cock-block. She was her own cock-block. Can a girl be cock-blocked?

Felicity grabbed her phone, thumbing it on. He was the one who’d started it, and the one who would have to sext while in a meeting. Sext. What a weird word, sext. And look at her - she was a weird someone who had told her boyfriend to behave when he wanted to sext.

“Way to go, Smoak,” she said, tossing her phone aside. She shifted again, feeling how slippery she was getting, and she readjusted, her stiff nipples scraping against the soft material of the shirt. She lifted up to pull it out from underneath her where it was bunching when her hand brushed over her chest, slipping across the hard peaks.

The slight touch sent a shot of desire straight through her center and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, shifting her legs again.

An image of Oliver rose unbidden in her mind, of him sitting in the meeting, staring at his phone. What would he have asked her to do?

She closed her eyes, her hand slipping down her side, but it wasn’t her touch she felt - it was Oliver’s, and the thought ignited a low burn in the pit of her stomach.

She glanced at the television, still on mute, and then to the closed window and partially open bedroom door, her body starting to dance with anticipation, her fingers itching to slip further down.

She could be responsible _and_ play, right?

Rolling onto her back, Felicity skimmed her hands down her stomach, settling into the center of the bed. She closed her eyes, her hands coming back up to her breasts where she palmed them, her nipples hardening even more as she thought about Oliver’s hands on them, the rough callouses on his palms scraping at her. She licked her lips, tugging her shirt up to slip her hands underneath, sighing when she touched her naked skin.

She tweaked her nipples, seeing Oliver’s hands instead. He had such beautiful hands - they were used, scarred, rough and had seen more pain than any one person should have to endure… but he always touched her so gently, so knowingly. They were always tan somehow, a shocking contrast to her pale chest. He would play with her, roll her nipple between his sure fingers before his lips would wrap around it.

Felicity keened, arching her back into her hands, feeling his stubble scratching at the sensitive skin of her breast, his tongue flicking her nipple.

Felicity abandoned her one breast and slid her hand down and into her panties, bracing her legs on the bed as she moved her hips up to meet her fingers. She was already wet, her panties damp, and she slid her fingers through her juices before finding the little bundle of nerves as she imagined Oliver dragging his face across her stomach, the way he did it that always set her entire body on fire.

She loved his stubble, how rough and soft at the same time it was, how it felt when he kissed her, or when he pressed tender kisses down her body…

Her fingers pressed to her clit, making her hips jerk up, and she started rubbing gently as she imagined Oliver’s fingers instead. And they would be in his office, in his conference room, where he sat at the head of the table and the cool glass on her back as he pressed his fingers against her harder, sending her higher, rubbing faster…

“Oliver,” Felicity gasped, arching her back off the bed, a low pressure starting to build inside as she rubbed faster. She bit her lip, chasing her crisis, moaning when the tiny inferno started, when it started building, and she moved her hand faster, her mind flashing to Oliver’s face pressed against her inner thigh, his stubble on the thin skin there, his fingers touching her, his hand grabbing her hip to keep her still as she…

Her phone chimed.

It broke through her pleasure haze instantly.

Felicity froze, her breathing erratic, her entire lower half aching with unreleased tension as the orgasm slowly backed off. She opened her eyes and glared at her phone before reaching for it, her hand still in her panties. She fumbled with it for a second, her heart starting to slow down when she saw it was a text from Oliver.

_O: Don’t come yet_

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying and she frowned at the screen. “What?”

“I thought you said those would be off,” a voice said from the hallway and Felicity dropped her phone in shock, narrowly avoiding it hitting her in the face as she twisted to see Oliver coming into the bedroom. She yanked her hand out of her panties and propped herself up on her elbows, a rush of heat scorching across her face as she realized that Oliver had just caught her masturbating.

Her jaw dropped as embarrassment swept through her. Logically she knew she had nothing to be embarrassed about, this was perfectly normal and healthy and all that, but she _was_ … because she was, that’s why.

“You’re home,” she said dumbly.

She could barely see his smirk in the flickering television screen. 

He didn’t reply.

Instead he approached the bed and grabbed her hips. Felicity let out a small, “Eep!” as he twisted her on the comforter and then tugged her to the edge of bed where he leaned over her.

 _Loomed_ was more of what he was doing, she realized, as she stared up at him with wide eyes where he hovered over her.

Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed her hand - the hand that was covered in her quickly drying wetness - and he sucked her index finger into his mouth.

Felicity gasped, a rush of heat sweeping through her as his tongue swirled around her finger, sucking it clean.

Oh god.

_Oh god._

This was quite possibly the most erotic thing she had ever seen. Ever felt. Anything ever.

He released her finger and said, his voice carnally low, “You started without me.”

“I, uh…” she stuttered, but then he sucked her middle finger between his lips and she nearly came right then. Her eyes switched to his mouth, the sight a heady one as he moved on to her ring finger, and everything below her waist was positively throbbing with need as she ached to feel his tongue doing _that_ to her down _there_.

He released her finger, his lips grazing down her palm and her arm, and she tried to catch her breath enough to say, “How was the meeting?” when he said her name - _Fe-li-ci-ty_ \- and then his lips covered hers. She moaned, tasting a hint of herself on his tongue as he ravaged her, his body draping over hers, pressing her into the mattress. Felicity opened herself to him, and inhaled sharply as when he pressed his very obvious erection right where she needed it.

Oliver broke away, and she didn’t have time to think when his fingers hooked in her panties as he slid back off the bed, landing on his knees before her. She vaguely realized he was still dressed for the meeting in his suit although his tie was loosened, the buttons at his throat undone and one side of the suit was wrinkled, like he’d been leaning against a wall.

His voice was severe as he said, “You said these would be off,” and then he tugged them down her hips. Felicity barely managed to lift her legs to assist when they were gone and he pressed his hands up her thighs, spreading her open before him.

“Oliver,” she whispered, her voice laced with need. She watched him as he took the sight of her in. She could see the glistening wetness between her legs as he spread her legs further apart. His eyes moved up to meet hers. She moaned deep in her throat at the darkness swirling in his gaze.

He didn’t say a word as he lifted her legs and tossed them over his shoulders. Felicity’s fingers tangled in the comforter, looking for traction as he gripped her hips tightly, yanking her closer to him before he leaned in, his eyes still locked on hers, and licked her from her soaking entrance all the way up to her clit.

“Oh, god, Oliver,” she whispered, arching her back to get closer to him, but he nailed her hips in place, keeping her still as he flicked his tongue across the overly-sensitive nubbin. It was already primed from her ministrations, she’d been so close before, and now he was spreading her wide with his face, his tongue caressing her exactly how she had imagined he would, the pressure starting to build rapidly.

He was unrelenting, both soft and hard, his stubbled chin scraping at her entrance. Felicity pulled him closer, squeezing his head between her thighs as she ground down against him, seeking more friction, need starting to consume everything. She keeled when he pressed his face harder against her sex, his hands holding her down tightly.

His lips wrapped around her clit, sucking it rough enough for her to see stars, and she blindly reached for him, her fingers grasping at his hair, holding him closer as the pleasure coiled white hot inside her. She heard herself saying something, knowing words were coming out, but all she could concentrate on was the yearning inside her, tuned into everything he was doing to her, white noise consuming her mind…

Everything started to tingle with awareness, all of it shooting straight for her core when Oliver scraped his teeth over her clit.

Felicity came hard with a sharp yell, her back bowing, the orgasm ripping through her. Oliver didn’t let her go, his grip on her hips tightening, but his tongue relented, softening as he rode out the orgasm with her, prolonging it until her hips were jerking against him in sporadic aftershocks.

“Oliver,” she moaned, her fingers running along his scalp, and it took her a moment to feel her lungs start to work again. Her limbs were limp, her head full of cotton, and she shivered as his hands ran over her stomach. She keened when he dropped a wet kiss to her lower abdomen. 

Felicity opened her eyes, watching him wipe his face - and why was that so damn sexy? He grinned at her, and she had just enough energy to move towards him, using his arms as anchors to pull herself up.

“Hi,” she said, angling her head for a kiss.

“Hi,” he replied, pressing his lips to hers. She moaned, tasting both of them, running her tongue across his lower lip. Her fingers found his belt, which she deftly undid as the kiss became more heated. She shoved them down his hips, followed by his boxer briefs.

“How was your meeting?” she asked breathlessly, wrapping her fingers around his rock hard cock. Oliver gritted his teeth, his forehead falling against hers as he thrust into her tightening grip. She ran her thumb over the head of it, spreading a tiny bead of precum, and his hips jerked. 

“I don’t remember,” he replied, and he slid his arms under her legs, tossing her further up the bed before crawling on top of her.

The End

*

[The Fuckening Fic Drive](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/the-fuckening-fic-drive)

If ya’ll have ideas or something you’d like to see, drop me a line on Tumblr (I'm [dust2dust34](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/)), or in the comments/reviews!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you recognize where some of those first lines came from, kudos on excellent movie taste! 
> 
> I wrote this with the intention of a follow-up - sometimes you just need to know sexting is an option for next time… :P
> 
> The response to this collection has been awesome. Please let me know what you think, reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate 3x17 ficlet. It isn't a kiss on the cheek they share in the foundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> effie214 made a post on Tumblr. And then this happened. I wrote this about ten minutes ago, completely un-edited or beta'd. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> *Very minimal spoilers for 3x17*

"Thanks."

"For what?" Oliver asked, brow furrowing in confusion as he watched her approach. His heart stuttered when she didn’t pause, when she didn’t stop. Instead, a slow grin lifted her lips as she said, “For proving me right.”

He knew she was going to kiss his cheek. He knew that was where she intended her lips to go by the way she grabbed his arm and lifted herself on her toes to reach him. Oliver knew that, in some place where he was more calm and logical.

_He knew that._

It didn’t stop him from instinctively turning to catch it, though. He just moved, without a single thought to what he was doing or _why_ he was doing it, he turned into her touch and where her lips were supposed to have brushed his cheek, where she was supposed to have let him go and he was supposed to have never touched her… instead, she kissed his lips. It wasn’t beautiful or graceful or anything for the books, but it _was_. It was everything. Everything he didn’t let himself think about, everything he felt in the pit of his stomach whenever he was near her, whenever he could watch her when she wasn’t looking, whenever she smiled at him or their eyes caught. But those were mere seconds, seconds to carry him through his decision – his _choice_ – never to be acted on.

Until her lips touched his.

They both froze. He felt her grip on his arm tightening, her stutter of breath. She was pressed so closely to him he could feel her heart racing, humming in time with his own, and then she pulled away. He expected her eyes to be wide, for her to play it off, to say something to alleviate the tension that was filling the room like concrete, but she didn’t.

Oh god, she didn’t.

Instead Felicity’s eyes were hooded, her breathing heavy, her grip tight. His hands tingled with awareness, his body like a live wire waiting to be satiated, and everything since seeing her leaning on Palmer in the office, since seeing them be so light and carefree with each other, laughing and easy and so… so perfect, but with the wrong man…

He snapped.

“Felicity,” Oliver breathed and he grabbed her face between his hands, pressing his lips to hers. She made a sound, a quiet unassuming sound and she froze for a split second, long enough for him to realize what he was doing, but then she reacted. She _responded_.

She moaned against his lips, kissing him back with equal ardor and every single inch of him positively _sang_. He felt her fingers grappling at his jacket, squeezing it in tight fists before they were pushing underneath, against his chest, pulling him closer. The kiss was everything that hadn’t been said since that night of their date, since the scene outside QC, since the hospital – everything that he had wanted but had denied himself for so long.

It had been the right decision, he _knew this_ , but he couldn’t stop. He’d wanted her for so long, he’d needed her for so long, and she was here.

Everything became instinct. She dropped her purse with a loud clang as he moved to shove her jacket off her shoulders. Her hands dragged down to the hem of his shirt, pushing up underneath it and he hissed when her nails scratched at his abdomen, at his jeans, tugging him closer.

He didn’t realize he was moving them until she stumbled, her lips never leaving his, and Oliver swooped down, tugging her dress up to lift her up into his arms. She said something – his name – before her lips were on his again, her arms around his neck, her nails scraping at his scalp as they carded through his hair.

Every inch of him was so alive – he’d thought being near her was a drug, but this was so much more. She was everything, the one to challenge him, to love, to live with him, to be with him… everything.

Her back hit a stone column somewhere, he didn’t even know where he had walked them, but neither cared. Her hands were moving down, tugging at his clothes as they nipped at each other’s lips, and her deft fingers found his belt. She fumbled with it for a second before he hiked her up higher and braced her against the wall, his hands flying to his belt to do it for her. He had the belt undone and his jeans unzipped before either could think about what was happening.

For so long he’d denied himself of her. Loved her from afar, knowing she deserved so much better, knowing he could never give her the life she truly deserved in this world, be everything she deserved, but just this once… just this once, he needed to be selfish. He needed her, and she was here, needing him back just as strongly, and he wouldn’t have stopped for anything in the world.

“Oliver,” she whispered, grasping his shoulders and he released his cock, pressing himself between her legs where he was met with a thin barrier. She shoved her hand between them and pressed the material aside, and he pressed the back of his hand against the wet heat there, his eyes closing with a deep groan.

“Don’t stop,” she said, pulling back. He looked at her, and she cupped his cheek, both of them pausing as she met his eyes. She shook her head, eyes brimming with emotions he’d never seen reflected so clearly back at him, repeating, “Don’t stop, Oliver.”

Without a word, he found her entrance and thrust in. She groaned at the shallow depth, her eyes nearly rolling closed, but she kept them open, kept them locked on his as he gritted his teeth.

“Please,” she said, nodding her head rapidly, something so much more than anything physical passing between them before he nodded back.

And then he thrust home.

It was powerful and quick – it was months, _months_ , of pent up emotions, frustration and anger and pain and loss. It was like they had been on the brink since that first night, waiting for each other, waiting to finish what had just started to begin before everything blew up in their face.

He growled her name, pressing her up against the wall, his hips pistoning against her, and she keened against him, pressing her chest into his, grasping his shoulders. His lips found her pulse point, kissing up to her jaw and she pulled his head up, their lips crashing together.

He felt the beginnings of the tingle in the base of his spine, every nerve in his body starting to burn as his crisis fast approached. He braced her against the pillar, reaching between them and finding the sensitive little nubbin that had her gasping, his name falling from her lips over and over until she fell. She came with a sharp yell, her back bowing, her silken walls clamping down on him, and he lost all control, nailing her to the wall as he thrust into her, harder and harder until his own orgasm shattered through him.

“Felicity,” he gasped, hugging her to him as tightly as he could. She said something that he couldn’t hear past the rush of white noise in his head, but he did feel her hands grasping the back of his neck, felt her fingers on the side of his face as she cradled him between her legs, and he shivered at her touch.

All he could think was one thing:

_Home._

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	4. Aesthetics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had always loved a woman’s ass, but Felicity’s was in another realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awesome Anon Prompt: “I love your fuckening fic smuts! and I have a prompt, oliver worshipping felicitys glorious ass in bed!”
> 
> Bre’s dream Season 3 reality where Olicity is established, and Thea and Oliver share the loft. This has been sitting around for quite a few days, I wrote this literally right after I got that request because it made me say, "YES!"

He stared at the fire, the gentle flames that were more for visual appeal than anything related to heat doing a fine job of keeping a tiny warm cocoon wrapped around them where they were laid out in the center of the loft, right in front of the thin stream of the fireplace.

The only light in the large room came from the flickering flames and the cityscape, highlighting the dips and curves of her back where she laid on her stomach, her face turned to the fire, her arms curled in against her sides as she slept on the makeshift bed he’d thrown together from his sheets and comforter.

His eyes followed the lines of her body.

She was naked, the firelight doing absolutely wondrous things to her skin, making her look like she was glowing. He was pleasantly numb from their third round, but parts of him he didn’t need to be reminded about were starting to ache from being on the hard floor - she would have to pry his fingernails off to get him to admit that his knee was starting to bother him again.

She let out a small snore, the burst of air making the hair over her face flutter.

He smiled, reaching over and tugging the sheet off of her, slowly so she didn’t wake, revealing porcelain skin, the dimples at her lower back and the beautiful roundness of her ass followed by luscious thighs and muscular calves that were one hundred percent designed to be showcased with stilettos, like the ones she’d worn to dinner that night. 

Oliver scooted closer to her and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the center of her back.

She sighed and he reached up, running his fingers down her spine, tracing the curvature all the way down until he reached his very favorite spot in the entire world.

Scooting down as she shifted on his comforter, Oliver moved until he was he was on his side and propped his head on one hand while the other reached out and traced a gentle line over the perfect curve of her voluptuous ass. It had had him transfixed long before he was even aware he thought of her as something more than a friend, long before she started wearing tighter skirts and dresses, higher heels that only drove him more crazy; and she damn well knew what it did to him when she bent over to pick something up, or leaned over her desk instead of sitting in her chair.

Felicity twitched in her sleep, but didn’t wake, and he licked his lips, his eyes watching his finger as he drifted down to the soft spot where her thighs began and then back up, drifting up along the sensitive crack, feeling his own body starting to respond to the sight of her laying supine before him, gorgeous and powerful and all his. 

She sighed, waking as he dragged his finger back down the center and around a curve.

He palmed one of her cheeks, kneading it and she moaned, turning her back to the fire to face him. She opened her eyes and frowned when she was met with open air before looking down. Amusement lit her eyes.

“Oliver, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice raspy with sleep and overuse.

“Nothing,” he replied, eyes drifting back to her ass. Her very, very beautiful ass that was all his. He ran his hand over each round cheek and she let out a little laugh.

“That doesn’t feel like nothing,” she said, her voice hitching, and he looked back up to see her staring down at him with hooded eyes.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to one cheek, his eyes on her as her lids fluttered shut and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. He dragged his lips across her ass. “I was just enjoying one of my favorite spots…” He pressed a wet kiss. “Of your beautiful body.”

“Oh,” she replied breathlessly, her breathing starting to increase. She scooted closer to him as he wrapped his arm around her, pressing his bicep up against the curve of her ass, pressing her cheeks up and together. He littered kisses down across each one, loving the tiny sounds coming out of her throat as she started to squirm.

“It’s perfect,” Oliver whispered, dragging his lips over her skin.

“Oliver,” she whimpered, her fingers twisting in the comforter, and he looked up to see her eyes closed, still trying to wake up, helpless against his ministrations. 

“It’s so full,” he continued, pressing a hard kiss. “And firm.” He pressed another. “It looks amazing in _everything_.”

Felicity chuckled, and he pulled back, his eyes glued on her ass as it shook beautifully along with her giggles. Oliver’s hand slid down her side and up over her hip, caressing one cheek. She stilled underneath him, her breath hitching as he increased the pressure, the tiny movement making her ass shake again.

“I love how much it moves when you laugh,” he said, and she snorted quietly. “It’s gorgeous. Every,” He pressed a kiss, “Inch,” Another kiss, “Of it.”

She sighed, relaxing into his touch and he had a wicked thought. He laid his hand on her back and brought it down, his fingertips dragging across her skin, down her glorious ass and between her thighs as he mused softly, “I wonder what it would look like when you’re coming on my fingers.” 

“Oliver,” she whispered, her thighs squeezing together despite the censor in her voice.

He smiled.

“I love watching your face when you come, Felicity,” he whispered, lowering his face back down as she let out a breathy gasp at the words. His voice was low, his lips pressed to her ass. “You are stunning, and watching you let go like you do, how your skin turns pink when you’re so close.” She shuddered, making her ass shake again and he felt his cock growing harder as his voice got deeper. “That noise you make when I’m eating you out; when you’re on top of me, using me for your own pleasure, so wet and tight…”

“Oliver,” she choked out, her hips squirming, and he grinned before giving one cheek a little nip, eliciting a noise very similar to the one he’d just described, his eyes on her. Her back was flush with color, her mouth open in a silent pant, her hands fisted in the comforter.

He paused, watching her, his chest expanding with everything this woman made him feel.

“You are so beautiful, Felicity,” he whispered.

She smiled, and the flush over her back grew deeper at his words.

Nothing he said would truly encapsulate what he felt for her, what she meant to him, how she had brought more light into his life than he had ever thought he was worthy of. Oliver closed his eyes and pressed his lips reverently to the sensitive skin right below the slight dimples on her back, his tongue darting out and she gasped, her hips lifting closer to him.

“I love you,” he breathed, the simple words saying so much more than that.

Before she could respond, he pulled back, his hand slipping down to caress her ass again. He gripped it in a tight hold, making her gasp and arch her hips up to take away some of the sting and he took advantage of the opening, slipping his hand between her legs to the wet heat waiting for him.

She was already slick from their earlier lovemaking, her thighs sticky with both of them, and he pressed two fingers against her entrance, making her moan.

“Spread your legs, Felicity,” he said. She immediately did, letting him slide his fingers through her juices and up to her clit. She gave him a guttural groan, her hips jerking against his fingers, making her ass jiggle. He licked his lips, watching her move, caressing her clit with gentle strokes, a rush of wetness coating his hand. She shifted her leg again, and pressed her thigh right up against his hard cock, making him clench his jaw.

Keeping himself propped up on his elbow, Oliver laid his free hand over her lower back to keep her still before he slid his fingers back to her puffy entrance. She moaned, pressing her hips down for more and he obliged, pressing them in slightly. She clamped down around him, and he bit the tip of his tongue to keep his hips from jerking his eager cock against her supple body.

“Tell me what you want, Felicity,” he whispered.

“Inside,” she said, her voice cracking with sensation as she spread her legs further, her thigh rubbing up against his cock again and his hips thrust against her of their own volition, her words only making his need for her worse. “I want you inside me, Oliver, inside me, please…” 

Oliver eased his fingers into her and she groaned, her walls clamping down around him. She arched her back again, lifting herself for more traction, but Oliver kept her down, his eyes on her ass as it moved in time with her tiny push. 

“Ride my fingers, Felicity,” he said hoarsely, but she was already moving, in small thrusts as she did just that.

Oliver watched transfixed as her ass flexed each time she pressed her hips down, seeking friction on her clit as she moved. She let out a high-pitched moan when she found it.

He had always loved a woman’s ass, but Felicity’s was in another realm. Hers moved in time with her hips as she rode his fingers, the noises she was making telling him she was well on her way to her release. A light sheen of sweat covered her skin, making her glow even more in the fire, and Oliver twisted his hand, curving his fingers slightly, just enough, finding the spot they had spent many, many hours exploring a while ago.

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped. “There, right there!” Her hips moved more urgently, her ass swaying more fervently.

Her juices were soaking his fingers, making her movements more slick, everything feeling silken, and he curved his fingers more as she started to rotate her hips in quick circles, her breathless moans getting louder, echoing in the loft. They became more pitched, more drawn out as she thrust faster against his fingers.

Oliver bent over and pressed his lips to her ass. She mewled loudly, her movements losing all coordination.

He laved his tongue over the sensitive spot before he started sucking and then he sunk his teeth into the tender skin.

Felicity shouted throatily, arching into his mouth, moving wildly underneath him. He sucked harder on the same spot and Felicity came with a violent start.

“Oliver!” Felicity shouted, her walls clamping down on his fingers. Oliver kept his face pressed to her as he pushed a third finger into her tight channel, moving his hand rapidly, chasing the waves of the orgasm, triggering another onslaught that had her keening his name again, her walls sucking him back in with each thrust.

She whimpered his name, jerking her hips back to meet his fingers when her damn thigh rubbed against him _again_.

Oliver was up on his knees without a second though, gently lifting her up on her shaky limbs. She was trying to catch her breath as he gripped her hips, spreading the wetness on his hand all over her as he pressed the head of his cock against her soaking sex, waiting.

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding her head, pressing back against him in encouragement, and he thrust in to the hilt.

Oliver groaned a series of unintelligible words, his grip on her punishing as she pulsed around him. 

He pulled back slowly, gritting his teeth, pleasure swamping him and he thrust in again, the sensation overwhelming as his hips moved.

The sound of skin slapping skin grew louder, echoing harshly in the room and Oliver gripped her close, bracing one hand on her lower back, his eyes on her ass.

The spot where he’d sucked and bitten her was already a bright red bruise, growing darker with each passing second, and it looked amazing as his eyes strayed to where his cock disappeared into her, her juices coating him catching the firelight. It was gorgeous and sexy as hell.

It only took a few deep thrusts before Oliver lost it and with one final thrust, he spilled into her with a raspy moan, falling over her, wrapping his arm around her breasts, plastering his chest to her back.

“Felicity,” he groaned against her shoulder, their skin sticky with sweat. Her walls were still pulsating around him without rhythm, milking more out of him and he pressed his hips further against her ass, making her moan, her face buried in the comforter.

He felt goosebumps erupting over her skin from his breathing across her back and she shivered, turning her face out of the blanket.

“Oliver?”

“Huh?” he managed.

Her voice was breathless as she asked, “Did you give me a hickey on my butt?”

Oliver laughed, and they both moaned in discomfort as the movements pulled on their sensitive flesh. With a low moan, Oliver pulled out of her.

Felicity collapsed onto the blankets and he followed suit. She crawled over to him and he wrapped her up in his arms, chuckling again when she mumbled something about being messy and sticky when his semi-hard cock smeared their combined mess all over her stomach.

He reached around her and grabbed her ass, pressing her flush against him, and she yelped.

His voice was rough with satiation and amusement as he said, “There definitely might be a hickey on your butt.”

The End

*

I'm [dust2dust34](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, if you fancy a drop-in!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this met the request! It was supposed to be a simple ode to Felicity’s glorious ass, but Oliver wanted so much more, the damn insatiable man. I have a lot of awesome prompts to go through, but I always love getting more for some Olicity smut - if you have some ideas or something you’d like to see, I would love to hear them and love to write them - drop me a ask on Tumblr or in the reviews/comments!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	5. Drabble: Garter Belt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: dettiot – "felicity? is that--is that a garter belt?"

**"Felicity? Is that... is that a garter belt?"**

Oliver’s rough voice had Felicity looking back at him over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised before she innocently looked down at where her skirt had ridden up. She reached back, lifting it higher, making his breath hitch as it revealed more of her pale skin, an erotic contrast with the black lacy material.

She made a show of examining it before saying, “I think it is, Oliver.”

He swallowed audibly, his eyes glued to her leg. “And why are you wearing it _here_?”

Felicity smoothed her skirt back in place, hiding the garter once again before turning back to where she’d been laying out the packets for the investors meeting in his conference room.

“Now that’s just a silly question,” she said, leaning over again, her skirt going up _again. She smirked when he let out a quiet moan from where he stood at the conference room entrance._

“Silly?” he repeated.

She looked back at him, and it was her turn to pause when she saw the dark lust in his eyes. Breathing became slightly difficult when his eyes slowly tracked up her body until his eyes met hers and she licked her lips.

“It matches my panties.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting him to do, but just _stand there_ sure wasn’t it. She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for more, but he didn’t move, his eyes boring into hers. With a soft shrug, she turned back to the packets, leaning over to continue placing them in their respective chairs.

She didn’t hear him move.

Hard hands gripped her waist, making her yelp and drop her packets as he forced her forward on the conference table. She braced herself on her elbows, his fingers finding her thighs before Oliver shoved her skirt up all the way, revealing the tiny black thong she was wearing that did indeed match the garter belt looped around her waist.

He let out a tremulous breath, his fingers following the lines, his touch setting her nerve endings on fire as he lightly dragged his fingers over her hips, down her ass and back up.

“Oliver, the meeting,” she said, and she was darn proud that her voice didn’t waver as he touched her.

And then his fingers slipped between her thighs, her wet arousal already soaking through her panties, and she let out a slight mewl when he swirled his finger through her thong, grazing her clit just enough to make her hips jerk against his touch.

“I,” Oliver started, pressing the thong out of the way and slipping a finger against her slick entrance. She gasped, her nails digging into the table. “Don’t give two shits about the meeting, Felicity.”

And then she heard his zipper, and his hands were on her hips, lifting her higher.

“And if you did, you shouldn’t have worn this.”

He hooked his finger in her thong, pulling it up out of the way before he thrust into her.

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped, arching her back to meet him His thrusts were quick and ruthless, hitting her deep, and she collapsed on the table, burying her face in her hands to muffle the sharp cries coming from her throat.

They had barely fifteen minutes before the meeting started and she knew he didn’t want anyone to catch them like this - Felicity was more than ready to live the rest of the day knowing he got off and her punishment for teasing him would be having to wait until they got home.

But her boyfriend was a kind man. Sort of.

The quick sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the room, echoing his grunts and her whimpers of pleasure. And then Oliver braced himself on the table, pressing her further into the chilled wood, right against her clit, and the harsh rubbing in time with his thrusts set a fire in her center that spread so rapidly she barely caught her breath before she came.

Her shout slammed against the walls of the conference room, followed quickly by Oliver’s as he emptied into her. She shuddered on the table, her throat raw from not screaming, as Oliver’s thrusts became more shallow, gentler, before stopping altogether.

“Felicity,” he said, her name coming out as a groan when he pulled out of her. She didn’t move for a second, listening to him right his clothes and then she felt his hand on her lower back as he pressed her thong back between her cheeks.

The intimacy of the act made her shiver, but it paled in comparison when he made sure the thong was _securely_ in place before leaning over her.

“Don’t clean yourself up until _after_ the meeting, Ms. Smoak."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my "One Line of Dialogue" prompt request on Tumblr: [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/115639143054/felicity-is-that-is-that-a-garter-belt)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	6. Drabble: Two Can Play This Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: mersayseh – "and just what do you think you're doing?"

**"And just what do you think you're doing?"**

Felicity hissed the words as low as she could, grabbing Oliver’s wrist in a vice grip, yanking it out from between her legs. “Stop it!”

“No,” he replied with a knowing smirk on his stupid face, leaning towards her again. She clenched her jaw, her traitorous eyes fluttering when he nuzzled the side of her neck. He pressed soft kisses up along the column, pausing when he reached her ear where he slowly sucked her earlobe into his mouth and bit.

She didn’t realize she’d released his wrist until he pressed it between her legs again, jolting her back to reality, and she grabbed it.

“We are in public, Oliver!”

“I know, Felicity,” he whispered into her ear, and she shuddered, unwittingly arching into his mouth when he made his way back down her jaw. He pulled his hand free from her hold and touched her chin, tilting her face back so he could slant his mouth of hers.

She should be annoyed, and she was really trying very hard… but the movie was just not that good. Not good enough, at least, to distract her from the nearly empty theater and the fact that they were in the very back and that the movie was definitely loud enough to cover any wayward… sounds, right?

Felicity moaned into his mouth, gripping the lapel of his jacket, opening herself to him. He smiled against her lips, his hand sliding back down her front, grazing over her chest, his fingers dancing across her hardened nipples poking through her sundress, before he slipped it down between her legs.

She didn’t stop him this time. Instead, she whimpered, opening her legs for him as his fingers found her wet heat. He moaned his approval, pressing them underneath her panties where her arousal was already pooling from all the _touching_ his wayward hands had done the entire night.

Oliver slipped away long enough to trail his wet fingers along her inner thigh, gripping her knee and he hooked it over the armrest, leaving her spread open for anything he wanted to do to her.

Well, two could play this game.

Felicity broke away from his lips when he slipped two fingers along the side of her clit. She abandoned her death grip on his jacket and grabbed his neck, using it as an anchor to slip her hand between his legs. He let out a startled noise, his fingers curling nicely against her puffy folds.

He was already hard when she cupped him through his slacks, and he groaned, pressing his fingers deep into her as he panted against the side of her neck, digging his forehead into her temple. She closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip when he started a shallow thrust, his thumb seeking out her bundle of nerves.

“Oliver,” she moaned as she rubbed him faster through his slacks, her eyes immediately flying open to see if anyone had heard her, but the only people in the theater with them were twenty rows ahead, in a small group, and they were all paying rapt attention to the movie, not the illicit couple in the back.

Who knew she was the kind of girl who did this? She sure as hell didn’t. And who knew she would like it so much? Not her.

Oliver adding a third finger and his tongue finding _that spot_ on her neck yanked her out of her thoughts and she unconsciously squeezed his hard cock through his pants, making him jerk, his groan vibrating against her, echoing her racing pulse.

His hips started thrusting against her hand, his breathing becoming more harried and she moved her hand faster, feeling the slight tendrils of pleasure starting to unfurl in the pit of her stomach.

Oliver rasped her name urgently, his movements halting as he thrust up into her hand.

Felicity closed her eyes, gripping the armrest her leg was hooked over as her hips started moving against his hand, seeking her own pleasure, the sound of his tiny cries of pleasure filling her ear as she rubbed him harder, harder, faster.

Felicity let out a short yelp when Oliver slid his wet fingers out of her and found her clit, rubbing it just as quickly and aggressively as she was him, the nubbin slick and hard, already yearning for attention from his ministrations.

“Oh…” she moaned, eyes slipping shut as her release built quickly, his fingers moving so fast, so fast… she barely felt her hand moving over him, or his hips thrusting up against her, or her own hips moving in jerky circles. She turned her face towards him, pressing against his stubbled cheek as they moved against each other, seeking their pleasure. She bit her lip to keep her voice down, and she shuddered when he pressed his lips to her shoulder, both of them moving faster…

A flash of white sheeted over her eyes - and later she would wonder if that had been the movie or if it was actually possible to come _that hard_ \- and she opened her mouth in a silent scream, her back arching as the orgasm crashed through her. 

Oliver’s free hand slipped between his legs, and he grabbed her hand, pressing it down harder against his cock as he thrust up against them both, rubbing her hand faster before he groaned into her ear, his release spilling inside his pants, a rush of heated wetness staining the front of his pants under her palm where their fingers were interlaced tightly.

“I can’t believe I let you do that,” Felicity moaned, cracking open an eye to see if anyone had called security, or if there were cameras - god, she didn’t think about any _cameras_ \- but she didn’t see anything.

“I think the better question is how am I going to walk out of here now?” Oliver asked, glancing down at the wet spot front and center, and Felicity giggled, her shoulder shaking with mirth as she turned to press a kiss to his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my "One Line of Dialogue" prompt request on Tumblr: [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/115643135059/and-just-what-do-you-think-youre-doing)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	7. Drabble: Don't Look Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: leilanewood – i just needed this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holly (geniewithwifi) wrote a happier sequel to my Nanda Parbat fic [To This Moment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3670851) called [A Field of Goodbyes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3674796).
> 
> Please consider this my smangsty sequel if things had gone in the opposite direction…
> 
> Reading [To This Moment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3670851) is recommended, but not necessary.

**"I just needed this."**

The words hung in the air between them.

Felicity pressed shaking hands to his chest, blinking rapidly to dispel the thin layer of tears as she bit her lip to keep a sob at bay. They - they as in she, John and Thea only - were due to leave Nanda Parbat in just a few hours… and she wasn’t ready. She would never be ready for this. For saying goodbye. For something so final, something that would effectively sever everything between them.

They had spent so much time pretending things would be okay if they never happened, but now that it was upon them… she wasn’t ready.

“I just…” she said, her voice wavering. “Needed this.”

For the first time in days, she’d found him wandering the halls of the freakishly large compound of the League of Assassins. She had been prepared to step aside, let him slide by - he’d barely slid her a glance - but at the last minute, she’d snapped.

She couldn’t leave, not without…

He didn’t move and neither did she.

She knew he’d been avoiding her since the morning after their one night together. It had been over a week ago since that night, since she’d finally gotten a taste of what being loved back by the man who owned her heart and soul so completely was like… only to wake up by herself, in a room that no longer held the romantic glow of love and warmth and security.

He had been gone, and she had been alone… until now.

Felicity couldn’t look him in the eye. She knew if she did, she knew her Oliver would be shining back at her, from underneath the harsh new veneer of Al Sah-him, Heir to the Demon, the man who would be taking the mantle of the most dangerous man on the planet. She could handle seeing _that man_ looking back at her, because at least then she could pretend that her entire world wasn’t falling apart around her, but…

But nothing else.

So Felicity stared at the dark robes he now wore, her hands looking small and pale against his broad chest, lost in a sea of darkness… she bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she touched him, moving her hands over him, seeing in her mind’s eye the scars she had traced, the star tattoo, a silent reminder that there was still so much of this man she didn’t know about, so many stories he had yet to share, so much about her she wanted to share with him, her own scars…

But they wouldn’t get that.

Her hands stilled at the thought, and a second later she pulled them back.

He still hadn’t moved, and she still didn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. She pointed over her shoulder, closing her eyes. “I’m gonna… go. Now.”

Did she say goodbye?

The crack in Felicity’s heart she had been carrying around with her since she’d woken to a cold bed that morning, the crack that had slowly grown deeper and deeper when she’d seen the shift in Oliver, seen him go through the ceremony without glancing at her, seen him slowly disappear from the man she loved… shattered when he didn’t move.

“Goodbye, Oliver,” she whispered, and a burning tear escaped, sliding down her cheek, stinging her dry lips. She closed her eyes, more tears falling, and turned away from him.

“Felicity,” he whispered harshly, her name sounding more like a curse than the reverent way he had whispered it for as long as she had known him stopped her dead in her tracks.

Oliver was at her back before she could react. Hard hands gripped her upper arms, tight enough to make her gasp, and then he was spinning them out of the corridor and through one of the doors off the hallway. He had the door open and closed before she could see where they were, and she stumbled in the bleak darkness, running into a high-backed chair.

“Oliver, what-”

Suddenly he was there; he was everywhere.

Felicity gasped as he grabbed her by the waist, yanking her back to his chest, burying his face into her hair. He inhaled quickly, and she felt his entire body trembling against her, so hard she was afraid he was going to hurt himself.

“Oliver,” she whispered, her voice cracking and he let out a harsh breath against her ear, and she felt something wet fall onto her collarbone. Was he crying? Her own tears rushed to the surface, flooding her vision and she blindly spun, reaching for him the same time he did, just as they had that night.

Their lips crashed together violently, their emotions raw like someone had stripped them of all their nerve endings and put them back frayed and painful to the touch. She held him as tightly as she dared, barely wincing when he wrapped his arms around her tightly, yanking her up against him.

Their teeth clashed as they kissed, their lips pulling and taking equally as Oliver spun them until her back collided with a wall.

The room was still dark, too dark to see anything, and she was glad. She knew she wouldn’t be able to do this if she had to look him in the eye, if she had to see her Oliver staring back at her, if she had to see the tears she felt coursing down his cheeks as he hiked her up the wall.

With a growl, he broke away from her, and she heard the whoosh of his robes coming off, followed by his pants, and then his fingers were at her belt, yanking it open and undoing her jeans. She grabbed his shoulders for balance, neither speaking, as he shoved her jeans and panties down her hips and legs. She lifted one leg, kicking her shoe off so he could push the material off, leaving the rest dangling as he surged back up to her, his hands gripping her painfully by the ribs and lifting her up.

He was already ready for her, and she gasped when she felt the head of his cock slide through her wetness. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her head falling back and hitting the rock wall with a pained thud that she barely felt as Oliver positioned himself before sliding in with a precision he had only gained from the hours spent learning every inch of each other as they had.

A sob ripped from Felicity’s lips before she could stop it, and she clamped her lips shut, squeezing her eyes closed as Oliver thrust in to the hilt, giving no indication that he had heard her.

He shoved his face against her neck, pulling out and thrusting back in just as violently, and she whimpered in combined pleasure and heart-rending sadness when she felt Oliver’s tears against her skin.

This was it. This was their goodbye.

Oliver’s thrusts were harsh and uneven, his grunts sounding more like sobs themselves as Felicity wrapped herself around him, taking it, absorbing him and everything he was giving her. It was anger at the situation, pain that they had tasted joy and had had to give it back so quickly. Regret that they had waited so long, rage that it wasn’t enough, that it would never be enough. 

Felicity’s release came on without warning, and it ripped through her like a rusty knife.

She yelped, her head slamming back against the rock wall again as the liquid hot pleasure sluiced through her. She vaguely felt Oliver’s thrusts growing more frantic, his hands gripping her so hard she knew they were going to leave bruises and her nails digging in his neck and scalp like she was afraid if she let go even a little, he would be gone again.

Oliver came with a jagged shout, his hips thrusting so hard that Felicity gave him a pained whimper. He spilled into her, filling her completely.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, breathing each other’s air, their combined mess leaking down between them, smearing both of them, before Oliver pulled out of her.

He lowered her gently, keeping his hands on her when she wobbled, before she gave him a short nod. And then she remembered that it was pitch dark, and he couldn’t see her, so she whispered, “I’m okay.”

It was the biggest lie she’d ever uttered.

He didn’t move right away, his hands clenching at her waist for a second, and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to launch herself at him… when he finally stepped back.

They dressed in silence.

Oliver opened the door, letting light from the corridor spill in and Felicity left first.

She hesitated, keeping her back to him, unable to speak, to think about what they had just done, to even care that she might have made things so much harder, that everything might now be… worse.

She stifled a sob as Oliver closed the door.

And then she turned, finally looking at him.

His face was wet with tears, his eyes red with unshed pain, the blue of his orbs so bright and striking it pierced right through her heart, and she knew he was seeing the same thing in hers.

With a sob, Felicity threw herself at him, and he caught her, their lips crashing together again, one last time. The kiss was powerful and beautiful and painful and everything they couldn’t say. It was all the years they were going to miss with each other - both as friends and as lovers - and it was the goodbye they couldn’t vocalize.

Oliver pulled back, his grip on her face unyielding as he whispered, “I love you, Felicity, I will _always_ love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her words running together. “I love you too, I love you so much.”

With one final squeeze, Oliver turned and walked away from her, not looking back.

After a moment of standing in the corridor, her eyes still closed, her hands still hovering where she had been holding his face, Felicity turned as well, heading towards where the others waited for her, where they were to get on a plane and leave.

Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my "One Line of Dialogue" prompt request on Tumblr: [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/115649862054/i-just-needed-this)
> 
> Sequel to this ficlet: [Please Stop/Never Stop](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253/chapters/8269255)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	8. Drabble: Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: Anonymous asked: Olicity-"...I didn't like the way he was looking at you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>  Gif Inspiration (not mine)

**"I didn't like the way he was looking at you!"**

“You know what, Oliver, I would find this kind of cute if it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Felicity got the door open and yanked her keys out of the lock. She stepped in quickly, spinning to shut the door in his face, but Oliver’s hand shot up, stopping it from smacking him in the nose. 

She glared at him and he glared at her. 

"I didn’t like it,” he repeated, and Felicity rolled her eyes. 

“This macho crap has to stop,” she said, backing up as Oliver stepped into her apartment, shutting the door with way too much force. “He is my boss, Oliver, which means I have to work with him.” 

“I don’t care if you work with him,” Oliver growled. “What I care about is that he spent the entire night undressing you with his eyes.” 

“So what?” 

“So…” His words faded as he stared at her. “So what?” 

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter,” Felicity replied saucily, cocking her head, giving him a mocking look. 

Oliver just stared at her, his face unreadable in the soft light coming from the overhead stove lamp she’d left on before they’d gone to the fundraiser. 

Oliver’s hissy fits about Ray Palmer were nothing new, but they were getting worse - and she knew they were in direct correlation with the fact that they’d been working overtime on a new project, and thus spending more time with Ray, but honestly… it was starting to grate on her nerves. 

Felicity pulled her bracelets off and dropped them on the coffee table. She started taking her earrings off, making her way to the bedroom. “I don’t think you should stay over tonight, Oliver, if this is the way you’re going to be acting.” 

“Felicity.” 

She stopped, closing her eye for a brief second before turning to face him. He hadn’t moved, his eyes locked on her where he still stood by the front door, his face cut by the angular harsh shadows of the dark living room. 

“What?” 

His reply was to remove his suit jacket, tossing it haphazardly on the couch before unbuttoning his shirtsleeves. Felicity watched, her brow furrowing as he rolled them up, before he ate up the space between them in a few long strides. 

She fought the urge to take a step back at the intensity in his blue eyes - which she knew from experience were so much darker than his normal ocean blue considering the way he was looking at her. 

Oliver cupped her face in an unyielding grip, tilting her head back as he pressed his chest against her, his eyes never leaving hers. 

“You, Felicity Meghan Smoak…” he whispered. “Are mine.” 

She shivered at the vehemence in his voice, his eyes drilling a dark promise into hers. 

Hard fingers titled her head back further, one hand sliding to cup the back of her neck in a strong grip as his thumb drifted over her bottom lip. Felicity whimpered at the slight sensation and she licked her lip involuntarily, like she was chasing his touch. His face darkened at the sight, the hand on her neck tightening. 

“You are my girlfriend,” he continued. “My partner.” 

His hand slipped from her neck and down her shoulder, his finger hooking in the silky strap of the beautiful silk dress she’d found earlier that week. It draped over her every curve, and she’d known it was a hit when she’d seen the look on Oliver’s face when she’d put it on for him a few days ago. 

Although this wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined him taking it off her. 

That sure didn’t mean the butterflies ramming themselves against her chest plate weren’t present, or knots of anticipation weren’t tangling together in her stomach, or a fine tremble in her hands wasn’t making her itch to touch him. 

Somehow he’d taken her from pissed as hell and straight to ready-to-rip-the-damn-dress-off-herself in barely a few seconds. 

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, Felicity…” 

The dress slipped off her shoulder, exposing her left breast. Without taking his eyes off her, Oliver’s hand slid down and he palmed it, his rough palm scratching at her hardening nipple. 

She took a stuttering breath. 

“I am the only one who can kiss you,” he said softly, pressing his lips chastely to hers the very moment he pinched her nipple. Felicity hissed, arching into his touch and he smiled. “I’m the only one who can touch you like this.” 

Felicity moaned, her eyes fluttering shut and Oliver pressed his lips to the tip of her nose, peppering small kisses all along the bridge of her nose and back down where he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, making her whine as he held her immobile. 

His hands slid down, pushing the silk dress off her other shoulder and down her body, past her hips until it pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a skimpy lace thong. The apartment was chilly from being empty all night, and she shivered, although she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold air or the look in his eye as he greedily took her in. 

When his eyes dragged back up to hers, she bit her lip. 

With confidant, sure hands, Oliver interlaced his fingers with hers, urging her to step out of her dress. She didn’t ask about the shoes - she knew he liked them on. 

He spun her, pressing his chest to her back as he wrapped his arm around her hip, a firm hand gripping her hip bone to keep her in place as his other hand moved achingly slow down her stomach, making her shiver and arch into him as he slid his fingers into her thong. 

Felicity gasped, her head falling back on his shoulder, his fingers slipping through the slick heat that had been pooling since the instant he said, _“You, Felicity Meghan Smoak, are mine.”_

His fingers dipped down to her entrance, pressing past her nether lips, dipping into her wetness before sliding back up to her clit and she whimpered his name, turning to wrap herself around him. 

“Don’t move, Felicity,” he said tightly. 

She dropped her hands instantly at the gruff command, shuddering under his touch as pleasure blossomed inside her. She glanced down at where his hand disappeared into her thong, and a rush of arousal seared through her, a rush of warmth coating his fingers and her panties at the sight. 

Oliver’s jaw was clenched, his body hard against her quickly melting one as he caressed her delicate nubbin. His fingers pressed harder, demanding more, sliding over the more sensitive right side and she jerked in his arms.

He rubbed, in deep, even strokes, igniting a fire deep in her stomach that started to spread like fire in her veins, spiraling out from her center as he ground against her, their bodies swaying in time with his touch.

“Oh god,” Felicity whispered, digging her nails into her thigh to keep from grabbing him as white hot pressure started coiling inside her.

Her legs felt like liquid as the pleasure grew headier - it was like a large boulder settling inside her, growing heavier with each of his commanding strokes, pushing her forward, urging more out of her. She started trembling against him, and he held her closer, keeping her anchored as his hand moved. 

“Oliver,” she keeled, dropping her head back against his shoulder again and Oliver pressed his face into her neck, his lips finding her ear. His hot lips sucked on her earlobe and then he bit down gently, making her cry out.

“Say it, Felicity,” he whispered harshly, his hand moving faster. “Say it.”

“Y-yours,” she gasped, her mind staring to scatter as her release built. “I’m yours. Yours… yours… yours…”

A low moan sounded from deep in her chest. Her hips moved of their own accord against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure, just _more_ and he delivered, his hand rubbing her clit harder, stroking her in tight little circles that had her sharp cries echoing through the apartment before it hit.

Felicity came with a shout, her back bowing, Oliver gripping her hip and cupping his hand over her sex to keep her in place. The hard dig of his fingers against her sensitive skin propelled her into a sharper orgasm, one that knocked her legs right out from under her.

Oliver’s arm wrapped around her waist, catching her before she could fall and he stepped back a few paces, carrying her with him. He found the couch and he pulled her down with him, situating her limp, pleasure-numbed body over his.

It took her a few minutes to realize his hand was still in her panties, her back pressed to his heaving chest.

Her legs were hooked over his thighs, his legs spread, stretching her wide open to him.

She blinked, trying to catch her breath, and she found her lungs incapable of anything past existing when his other hand slipped into her panties as well, three fingers pressing to her soaking entrance as his other hand slowly stroked her abused clit.

“Oliver,” she whined, arching her back, not sure if she wanted to get closer or further away.

“One more time,” Oliver grunted in her ear, his hips jerking up against her ass, his hard cock straining against his pants as he thrust all three fingers into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my "One Line of Dialogue" prompt request on Tumblr: [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/116010386539/olicity-i-didnt-like-the-way-he-was-looking)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	9. Drabble: Please Stop/Never Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: vampirebarbiecare – Haha, that's great that you are having fun writing them, then it wld make it easier for me to request for a sequel for the latest Nanda Parbhat drabble where Olicity meets after a few years have passed. Pretty please? Hehe.. Just think of the smangst potential there.. Or even just plain angst!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a thank you to Lulu (vampirebarbiecare) for featuring Blood Hands as her [Fiction of the Month](http://vampirebarbiecare.tumblr.com/post/116137517286/fiction-of-the-month-title-blood-hands-author)!
> 
> I wrote a Nanda Parbat spec fic called [To This Moment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3670851), which I continued in a prompt fic called [Don’t Look Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253/chapters/8192439).
> 
> This is a sequel to that.

Felicity knew he was there before she saw him.

She felt his eyes on her, a tiny spark that slowly morphed into a flame as awareness danced under her skin

It had been over seven years since Nanda Parbat. Seven years of wondering if things might change, of wondering where he was, who he had become, what he was doing; of learning to put her love for him aside, learning to love someone else, learning to lose someone else; of continuing what he had started, with Diggle, Roy and Laurel, and then Thea, and then Ray…

Seven years of existing, but not _living_.

The first time they heard rumors about the League being back in Starling City, Felicity had gone into overdrive. She’d scoured the news, every camera she could get into, every feed she could find; she sent out feelers, stalking people who made any mention of seeing a giant black shadow carrying a bow. Someone even tweeted, _‘Holy shit, is the #Arrow back?’_ Nobody ever saw anything definitive - the League lived up to its reputation: they were ghosts, slipping in to do one task before slipping away again.

For days she sat in the new Arrow Cave - she still called it the Arrow Cave, even though the Arrow hadn’t shown his face in Starling City in two years - until Diggle had appeared behind her, his touch on her shoulder feeling like acid dripping along her nerves.

_“It’s not him, Felicity.”_

_“Maybe not, but… maybe it is, John. Either way I’m not stopping.”_

_“I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to be prepared for when we find out it isn’t Oliver.”_

When. Not if.

Her searches kept hitting dead end after dead end, but she didn’t give up… until she woke up one morning to a note on her pillow.

It was his scrawl, in black pen on a piece of paper from the cartoon birds notepad she kept in the kitchen.

_‘Please stop.’_

He’d been in her apartment. He’d stood by her bed, walked through the rooms, picked up a pen - which pen, she’d always wondered, like maybe if she held it the way he had she’d be able to feel him - and… he had done nothing. He’d gotten to see her, but she hadn’t gotten to see him - he’d taken that away from her.

Felicity stared at the paper, not moving, afraid to breathe in case it blew the note away as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

Oliver had been there.

And he wasn’t anymore.

An irrational whip of anger had her crumpling the paper and throwing it across the room. He’d been in Starling City this entire time. He had been the shadow people saw, he had been the inspiration for the Arrow tweet. He knew they would be wondering, they would be concerned, they would want to know he was alright, but he hadn’t contacted them, he hadn’t done anything.

Just a note. Because he knew she was looking for him. He knew she would always look for him.

The tears were unexpected. She didn’t want to cry over him, she didn’t want to cry for that fact that he had stood right there - Felicity laid on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, wondering where it was exactly he had been standing, trying to feel his presence, to feel _him_ …

She cried. She cried for the lost time, for the fact that she was never going to have him back, that if there was any doubt left in her mind about the path he had chosen, he just answered it for her.

The League had chosen him, and he had chosen the League.

Felicity eventually picked up the note, flattening it out. She wanted to trace the letters, but she didn’t. She wanted to show John that he was alright, that he had been there, but she didn’t. Instead Felicity, blinking away tears, opened a drawer and dropped the note in.

She never opened it again.

Since then, there were four times she knew he was in Starling City.

When reports started popping up, it got easier with time for her heart not to jump into her throat at the possibility that it was him, easier to tell herself it didn’t matter because he was gone, and he was staying gone.

So it wasn’t because of her searching for him that she knew he was there, but because he searched for her. She moved a total of three times, and he always found her.

One time he left her window cracked.

Another time she caught a glimpse of a hood down the street.

A red pen went missing from her apartment, of all the stupid things he could pick, like she needed a reminder.

Once she woke up on the couch with her comforter tucked around her.

She never mentioned it, she didn’t need to; it became a link, something to hold on to, something to wish for, something that sustained her as she went on. She went through the motions, only able to commit half her heart to anything - to anybody - because the other half had been permanently given away, ever since Oliver had whispered, _“I love you, Felicity, I will always love you.”_

So when she woke up at 1:37 a.m., seven years after his final words to her, she knew he was there, knew he had _been_ there.

Felicity didn’t move when he opened her window silently, the only indication the change in the shadows on her wall as he slipped through the moonlight before melting back into the darkness that was now his home.

He did nothing for the longest time except watch her, and she felt his eyes on her as if it were his touch dragging over her skin.

She blinked at the wall, her heart calm and tranquil, like she was still sleeping. Her breathing was even, her mind awake and clear. She had let herself wonder what it would be like if she did see him again, if she caught him, if he slipped up… she thought she might use her loud voice, throw something at him because a _red pen_? Seriously?

But she did none of those things. She laid there, waiting.

Time was suspended, moving in the blink of an eye while moving slow as molasses at the same time.

Until he moved.

And then everything felt sharp and painful, and the closer he got to her, the tighter her chest started to feel. She closed her eyes when tears blurred her vision - no, she wanted to open her eyes, she wanted to see him. But she couldn’t.

He didn’t make a sound, but she knew he was standing by the bed. She didn’t have to have her eyes open to know he was reaching out to touch her, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to see where his hand was before she reached out, gripping it tightly.

He let out a startled sound and she looked up at him.

For a man cast in shadows, she saw him remarkably well. He was dressed in his League clothes, his face shrouded save for his eyes.

Al Sah-him stood before her, cold, hard; emotionless.

But the trembling in his hand, his fingers twisting in hers to grip just as tightly… that was Oliver Queen. Her Oliver, the love of her life…

Neither said anything.

Felicity gently tugged on his hand, scooting over, urging him to join her. He didn’t even try to resist. His weapons were already off, his quiver and bow gone as he climbed into the bed, laying down next to her. He didn’t take off his mask, or his clothes, or anything, save for the bare hand in hers.

Their fingers interlaced, holding on to each other like a lifeline. He held on so tightly she felt her bones grinding together; her nails dug into the back of his hand, trembling with the effort. She took a stuttering breath, echoed by his own harsh breathing as they laid next to each other, holding onto the only thing they could…

Felicity closed her eyes, several tears escaping, running into her hairline as she let herself imagine that the only thing in bed with her was Oliver Queen, and nothing more. 

And then he let go.

The sob was out before she could stop it. She held her breath to keep the rest in, her empty hand dropping onto the cold sheets between them. She left it there, pressing her other shaking hand to her face as more tears slipped down her face, soaking into her pillow.

She didn’t dare open her eyes, to see if he was gone, to see if he was still there.

And then his fingers brushed her cheek and she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. She froze as his wiped away her tears, before he cupped her face. His touch was soft, gentle, a remembrance of the night they had shared. His fingers trailed down her cheek as he moved, down over her jaw, following the dip and curve of her neck as he moved to her shoulder, his fingers leaving a white hot trail in their path. She stayed still, eyes closed, barely breathing, as he moved down her arm with his warm rough palm.

Where she was fighting to keep herself from letting any air into her lungs, for fear that it might fast-forward time, he was breathing fast and heavy, like he was trying to keep himself in check.

He paused when he reached her wrist, before going back up her arm, his hand slipping to her waist where he let it slip down to her hip under the sheet… before it slid back up to her shoulder.

Felicity’s hand shot out to stop his movement. He froze next to her as she pressed it back against her waist, sliding it back down until she reached the hem of her shirt. She pressed his hand up underneath it, sliding it up against her bare skin, over her ribs and up to her breast.

He didn’t do anything for a long second, his breaths coming out in short bursts.

She wondered when her heart had started back to life, if he could feel it hammering against her chest plate, vibrating through her skin.

With a sudden gasp, he clutched her breast tightly, and she arched into his touch, shivering when twisted the sensitive flesh, like he was too eager to touch her, to feel her against him.

She knew the feeling.

Her eyes closed, tears drying on her cheeks, she kept her hand over his on her breast, encouraging more. He gave her that, just that… and she realized after a long moment that that was all he was going to do: whatever she wanted, what she needed.

The fine tremble in his every touch bespoke to the fact that Oliver Queen was in there still, buried so deep inside Al Sah-him, but he didn’t know how to _be_ Oliver Queen anymore.

Felicity opened her eyes, looking at him, and saw his shuttered blue orbs staring at her blankly, watching her, a stark contrast to his heated touch.

Al Sah-him stared at her, while Oliver Queen touched her.

He always came to her, whenever he was in the city, he always came to her, but he didn’t know why anymore.

With a choked sob, Felicity bit her lip, gripping his hand tightly to stop his ministrations. Their eyes stayed locked as she took a slow, shaky breath before she sat up, forcing his hand to fall back.

With slow, measured movements, Felicity gently pressed on his shoulder until he rolled onto his back. She got up on her knees, letting her hands rove across the heavy material of his League wear. She didn’t try to remove any of it, she didn’t try to take his mask off or force him to remove any more armor than he already had.

This wasn’t about changing Al Sah-him, it was about reminding him that he was still Oliver Queen, that he was still a man, a man she loved, and that she would love him no matter what.

He didn’t stop her as Felicity found the belt and button of his pants. He laid prone beneath her as she undid them, spreading the material and pushing it down his hips. She reached in, grasping his already hard cock, looking up to see his eyes flutter shut, his hips arching into her touch as she gently pulled him free.

His entire body trembled beneath her as she gently stroked him, her thumb running over the head where precum was already seeping free. He hissed, his hands gripping her sheets into tight fists.

Felicity sat up, pulling her shirt off. Her hair was longer than the last time he’d been in Starling City, and it cascaded down her chest and back, tickling her bare skin as she wiggled out of her pajama shorts and panties, leaving her naked before him.

He may be still be completely veiled in darkness, but she knew he was more naked than he’d been in a very long time.

Felicity straddled him, their eyes locked on each other. She reached between them, gripping him tightly, pressing him against her wet entrance. He barely moved, short hard breaths coming out as he forced himself to lay still…

Felicity slowly eased down on him, her mouth falling open in a silent moan as he filled her more completely than anything in her life.

A breathy whine escaped him, and Felicity panted as he watched her. The shuttered look was gone, replaced with raw emotion: pain, love, grief, anger… he stared up at her, showing her everything, giving her everything as she reminded him of who he was, that he could always come back to her to find his home. She didn’t see the mask he wore, the black archer clothes, the hood still up… she only saw his eyes.

She only saw Oliver.

Felicity reached down, grabbing his hands. She pressed them to her thighs as her hips started a slow, easy rhythm, small thrusts that started rocking the bed as she held his hands to her body. His fingers were trembling again. She held them to her waist, their eyes never breaking contact as she made love to him.

Felicity’s breathing grew heavier, the slow burning spiral of pleasure starting to blossom in the pit of her stomach; her hips moved faster, and she nodded to him, encouraging him to hold her, to keep her close.

Felicity saw the break in him before his fingers suddenly dug into her waist.

With a grating moan, Felicity fell onto him, pressing her forehead against his, gripping the pillow he laid on. Her hair created a dark curtain around them, but she knew his eyes were open, watching her in the darkness, just as hers watched him as they thrust against each other, their hips moving faster, chasing their release.

With a choked growl, Oliver reached up and yanked his mask off. Felicity gasped, her hips stuttering, but Oliver wrapped a tight arm around her waist, keeping her pressed against him as he cupped the back of her neck, their lips crashing together.

It happened in a blur after that, as Oliver planted his booted feet, using his grip on her waist to thrust wildly into her as their tongues mimicked what their lower halves were doing.

Her pleasure grew in a tight ball in her center as they thrust against each other, as Felicity matched his kiss with equal ardor, teeth nipping at each other’s lips and tongue, her hands coming up to cradle his face in a tight grip, her release climbing without warning. Her nails dug into his temples, their moans lost in each other. His hold on her grew tighter, their hips moving faster, the bed rocking underneath them…

Felicity came with a broken shout. Oliver gasped underneath her, thrusting up without any rhythm as her walls pulsed around him. His hold on her waist was painful, making her ribs groan with discomfort as he held on tighter and tighter… until with one last thrust Oliver spilled into her, the sound he made something between pleasure and grief, a sound that tore into Felicity’s soul.

*

Felicity woke the next morning, her body sore and bruised. She didn’t open her eyes for a long moment, letting herself just… be. She didn’t want to feel the pain of knowing he was gone, the loss all over again, knowing that the love they had given each other last night was over again…

She eventually did open her eyes though, and there was a note on her pillow.

It was the crumpled note, the first note he’d left her… it was flipped and on the other side, in the same scrawl with the same black pen, was a message:

_‘Never stop.’_

Felicity blinked at the words, and she slowly traced the letters as tears rose unbidden.

But not tears of grief this time.

They were something else.

Because she knew what he meant.

_‘Please never stop loving me.’_

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of having an off day, so I'm posting this before I change my mind! :)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	10. Drabble: A Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: ladymalfoi – “Is that a challenge Mr. Queen?”

**"Is that a challenge, Mr. Queen?"**

"I do believe it is, Ms. Smoak." Oliver gave her a level look. "The entire day."

Felicity snorted. "Please. Easy schmeasy."

Oliver smirked at her boldness, pinching his lips to hide it from her. "Alright. Good. Tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow it is.” She turned back to her tablet, and Oliver turned back to the TV. He flipped through a few channels, not seeing the shows, his attention on his periphery. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “Should we make it interesting?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking at her as he hit the mute button. "I'm listening."

"If I win - which I will, so be prepared - you have to do everything I ask you to, for an entire night." The smile he gave her was slow and predatory and she returned it. "Including cleaning." His eyebrows hit his hairline, not expecting that. "And fixing the air conditioner. And alphabetizing the spices." He chuckled and she leaned over, tapping his lips, her voice growing husky as she said, "And showing me you know how to spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious with your tongue."

Oliver inhaled sharply, narrowing his eyes and she just smiled at him.

"Okay. And if I win?"

She sighed, patting his chest. "You won't." He laughed. "But let's make it dealer's choice."

He stared at her for a long moment. She met his gaze boldly, far too self-assured, which was only going to make tomorrow so much more fun. He knew what he wanted, but he didn’t say anything, watching her watch him before she made a slight face. And then she bit her plump bottom lip, before sucking it into her mouth as she fidgeted under his gaze. The sight sent a burst of arousal through him.

"Be nice," she warned.

Oliver only smiled before turning to face her where they laid in bed, his hand sliding across the comforter. He slid his finger under her camisole strap, slipping it down her shoulder. Goosebumps rose under his touch, and he watched with fascination as a light flush spread across her chest. They both stared at his hand as he slid her tank top down, exposing her breasts.

And then she swallowed and Oliver’s cock hardened as he followed the delicate line of her throat up to her rosy cheeks.

"I get to do anything I want to you, Felicity," he said, his voice low, a soft growl from deep in his chest.

Felicity blinked, licking her lips, her eyes meeting his. “Anything?”

Oliver’s eyes drilled into hers, his fingers dragging over her breast. They slipped over an already peaked nipple, and she gasped, arching into him, her eyes never leaving his.

“Anything.” 

He watched her pupils dilate at the promise in his voice, and her breath grew shallow as her mind worked overtime to capture everything that single word entailed.

"It's a deal then, Mr. Queen.” 

*

Oliver probably should have mentioned that he had planned this the second he found the butterfly vibrator in her nightstand.

He knew about her toy collection, and they had played with some of them a few times, but it didn’t hold the appeal it had with other women.

He usually got far too distracted by Felicity herself to properly use any of the damn toys.

Until he spotted the butterfly.

The wireless remote butterfly.

She came after a mere minute the first time he turned it on.

They were alone, and they were going to be alone _all day_ , something she had not known until they’d walked into QC and she noticed Diggle wasn’t going upstairs with them. He said he had a few errands that were going to keep him busy, and all of Oliver’s meetings had been bumped to later in the week.

The entire day was free and clear and only for them.

She had not been pleased.

“This is cheating, Oliver,” she whispered, straightening out a pile of papers with more force than necessary at her desk.

Oliver smiled at her - the fact that she was whispering at all was adorable, considering it was just them. He fingered the remote in his pocket where he stood in the doorway of his office. “You didn’t say there were rules, Felicity.”

“I think it’s a pretty obvious rule,” she replied, her cheeks flushed from the first orgasm. “I didn’t think you would-”

Oliver switched the vibrator on to its first setting, and Felicity’s words ended in a choke as the little butterfly came to life against her. He’d personally checked the placement when they’d gotten into the office, something for which she’d smacked the back of his head for, so he knew it was strapped on just as they had planned.

As he had challenged her to.

_“Wear it all day.”_

_“All day?”_

_“All. Day.”_

She’d known his schedule, knew he had back-to-back meetings for most of the day, and that John was usually there… she had obviously thought it was going to be easy, that Oliver wouldn’t toy with her like that in front of people, especially since the vibrator made quite the racket when it was at its highest setting. 

The little butterfly was pressed against her nether lips, the head directly on her clit, the antennas artfully positioned so each side of her sensitive nubbin got stimulation. The wings were spread out in perfect position, enough to send vibrations across the lips, while the rest of the body was teasingly pushed against her tight hole.

He’d made sure of that, tightening the straps of the vibrator where they were wrapped around each thigh and one connecting strap around her waist to keep everything in place.

Oliver switched the remote up a level, increasing the vibrations and Felicity’s mouth gaped open, her half-lidded eyes glazing over.

His mouth went dry as her hips arched towards the vibrator, her fingers turning white where she gripped her desk. She already had a light sheen from the quick orgasm he’d brought her to just a few minutes ago, and he watched with fascination, the sun highlighting her from behind, making her glow from the flush slipping across her skin.

God, she was beautiful.

He was already growing hard, just watching her, despite having her twice that morning, his body tensing with each passing second.

Just thinking about the words he’d whispered in bed were shoving heady doses of need through his veins when she’d said, “Again?”

_“You think it’s going to be easy for me to just sit there, doing nothing but making you come over and over again?” His half-hard cock slid against her and she gasped. “Not able to do anything but watch?”_

This wasn’t just a challenge for her.

Felicity moaned, the sound coming out in strangled pants, her hips rotating in her chair as she squeezed her thighs together, pressing the vibrator against herself hard. Oliver’s finger nearly slipped on the damn remote when she fell back in her chair, her hips arching up, one hand landing on her thigh where she dug her nails in.

He shut it off.

Felicity let out a low, pained keen as she slumped in her chair.

She opened her eyes, glaring at him, her chest heaving.

He just smiled and headed back into his office.

He watched her as he sat down.

Her lips moved as she randomly adjusted things on her desk with shaky, uneven movements. A long moment passed where she finally started to calm down, and Oliver watched her the entire time, readjusting his hard cock in his pants, biting back the hiss when he cupped himself. He may have little self-control when it came to the gorgeous woman sitting out there, but he had _some_ at least - he could wait, he _would_ wait, no matter how long he had to watch her luscious hips rotate against the little vibrator, or her hands slowly tighten on her chair arms as she moaned his name…

Oliver groaned, shaking his head.

Damn it, at this rate, he wasn’t going to last.

Felicity gave no indication that she was aware of his eyes glued to the back of her head, as she turned back to her work, looking like she was cooling off.

Oliver pulled the remote out, and ratcheted the vibrator up to its third setting.

Felicity froze, her body stiffening, her shoulders trembling. Her hips started rotating almost immediately, and she gripped the desk with one hand, the other keeping her chair still as she rode the vibrator.

Oliver hit the fourth level after a moment, and watched her come with a sharp shout, her back bowing as the orgasm rocketed through her. He felt his own flush coming on, his cock hardening to the point of pain as she ground against the chair, her head falling forward, sobs of pleasure echoing into his office.

With a quick flip, he slipped the vibrator up to the fifth level, flicking it between the two levels, making her come again before he slowly eased off, finally silencing it.

Felicity fell forward onto her desk, her forehead resting against the cool glass. He waited, his eyes on her, his breathing heavy and controlled.

She finally sat up, and he grinned when she made a point to not look in at him, turning back to her computer.

The third time was an hour later.

The fourth time was over lunch, when she purposefully scheduled a telephone conference.

She was in there with him, taking notes dutifully as he answered the questions appropriately, responding when necessary, listening to the Hong Kong office as they talked about a midnight emergency for something or other… alright, he wasn’t really paying attention.

One of the men on the other side asked if he had seen the report they just emailed over, and Felicity nodded, having already printed it. She went to her desk, retrieving the paper, and the second she entered his office again, he turned the vibrator on high.

Felicity faltered, choking back a moan, her eyes slipping shut.

She came quick and hard, just like he wanted - his response to her scheduling the damn call in the first place - and she nearly fell from the force of her release, biting her lip to keep from crying out her pleasure as her entire body quaked.

Oliver had to give her points because she remained standing in those sexy stilettos, albeit extremely shakily, finally making her way to his desk, handing him the paper - the very crumpled paper she had clenched into a tight fist - as he said, “Yes, I’ve got the report right here.”

He kept the vibrator on a low setting for a while after that, teasing and tormenting her, and Oliver watched her sit at her desk, staring blankly at her computer, all her energy concentrated on the butterfly between her quivering thighs.

He could tell she was wavering with the fifth one, which he slowly - _slowly_ \- built towards, one that cascaded through her body like a gentle wave, judging by the way every inch of her reacted to it, and that she was getting unsteady with the sixth.

It was almost the end of the day when he gave her her seventh, sitting on one of the sofas in his office, and she came with a sharp groan that was bordering on painful when Oliver finally set the remote down.

He stared at her where she was sprawled across the cushions, her breathing labored, her body twitching with small aftershocks.

“I…” she started, her voice raspy and dry. “I win.”

Oliver gave her prone body a smile. “Not yet. Come here.”

Felicity barely had enough energy to lift her head as she looked at him. “What?”

He just cocked his finger at her in a ‘get over here’ motion.

With a breathy whine, Felicity stood, looking like a fawn learning how to walk again. Oliver gripped her waist, pulling her between his legs, forcing her thighs together, making her gasp, a sharp tremor jerking through her.

“You,” Oliver said, his hands slipping down to the hem of her dress. He slid them up, pushing the material up as Felicity looked down at him through hooded eyes. “Are so fucking gorgeous when you come, Felicity.”

Arousal darkened her eyes and her lips trembled as Oliver hooked his finger into her thong, pushing it down. It was _soaked_ , and her juices smeared against her leg all the way down her inner legs where she dutifully stepped out of them.

He smiled up at her, letting his eyes drift down to her bare sex, a small patch of hair and the little purple butterfly still strapped in place her only ornaments. The flash of purple, the red, aroused tender skin, and the straps hooked around her - it was sexy as hell.

Oliver hooked her dress in the strap around her waist before he quickly undid his pants, letting his aching cock spring free. Felicity bit her lip, her eyes on him as his hard cock swayed between them, the head dark with need, the thick vein running up the side practically throbbing.

“Hard day?” she asked with a little chuckle and he narrowed his eyes, unable to stop the smile at her words, before he pulled her towards him. She lifted her legs, straddling him in his office chair, the vibrator still in place.

“You might say that,” Oliver hissed as his cock slid against her soaking entrance. She was dripping, she was so wet, and Oliver slid his hands up her legs, his thumbs dipping down to slide across her inner thighs. His breath hitched when he felt the evidence of her multiple orgasms smeared everywhere.

He barely touched the vibrator and Felicity shuddered, her head falling back, pressing her chest against his face.

“You are so wet,” Oliver whispered raggedly, his eyes on her sex and his cock slipping against her. The vibrator glistened, pressed between her puffy lips, her little clit hard and red against the butterfly head. “So beautiful.”

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered, her voice cracking, the exertions from the day stripping her of any ounce of self-consciousness that she usually showed when he took his time exploring every inch of her.

He gripped her hips and he lifted her, her thigh muscles clenching and his cock slid home, slipping into her with ease.

“Oh… god,” Oliver groaned, the sensations of her slick walls rhythmically squeezing him pushing him further along than he wanted.

Felicity dug her nails into his shoulders, using him to help her lift her hips and thrust back down against him and Oliver gave her another guttural moan, already feeling his own release coming on way too fast as he watched himself slip out of her and then slide right back in, his cock spreading her already abused lips, pressing the butterfly up against her clit.

The sight of him spreading her like that, filling her completely, wearing a vibrator he had used on her all day… it was one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen.

She dropped particularly hard on him, and he slid in deeper, his pubic bone shoving the vibrator up against her clit, and she let out a needy moan.

Oliver blindly fumbled for the remote he’d left on his desk. When he found it, he gritted his teeth, flipping the switch to whatever random setting it landed on.

The vibrator roared to life, and Felicity yelped his name the same time he growled hers as the vibrations translated through her tender flesh and right into his. Oliver nearly dropped it as he grabbed her hips, lifting her up and down rapidly, the vibrations sending them both into overdrive. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Felicity babbled, unable to do anything but hold on as Oliver thrust her up and down on him. The chair squeaked under their ministrations, scraping against his desk as he pushed them higher. Felicity buried her head in his neck, and he pressed his face into her shoulder, his hands slamming her down harder and harder until Felicity came with a hoarse shout of his name in his ear.

The sound of her heavy panting, his name a litany on her lips, had the base of Oliver’s spine tingling. He had enough state of mind for his thumb to find the remote and he shoved it up to its highest setting.

The loud buzzing sound of the vibrator echoed the wet sounds of her sex and the squeak of the chair as he grunted, “One more.”

A plaintive cry was his response.

She lasted all of fifteen seconds. 

“Oliver, I can’t, I can’t, please,” she whimpered, the words tripping over her tongue.

Oliver shut the vibrator off instantly.

He dropped the remote and gripped her hard, shoving her down against him in three short thrusts that had him roaring his release as he came into her. He arched up into her, her sex milking him, shoving them away from his desk. The chair rolled back into the wall, the dull hit making them both groan.

Her walls rippled around him, and he groaned pitifully, matching the uneven keels Felicity was making.

They clung to each other, slowly coming down.

She was pure liquid in his arms. Oliver slowly slid them around her, hugging her close and she groaned.

“You okay?” he whispered, turning his face to press a kiss to the side of her neck.

Her only response was a discombobulated hum.

He grinned, pressing her closer so he could push his stubble against her sensitive skin.

“You know,” he said. “I think I won.”

“What?” she asked groggily, trying to lift her head as awareness set in.

He cupped the back of her neck, pulling her down so his lips were pressed to her ear. He kissed the shell softly and whispered, “I won, Felicity. You didn’t last all day.”

She huffed, trying to sit up before the little bit of strength she had managed to gather disappeared and she slumped against him.

“Damn.”

He smiled, his hands sliding down her back and to her firm, beautiful ass. He felt himself hardening inside her at the thought of what he had in mind.

Oliver gripped her cheeks, pushing her against him, making her moan, and then he spread them wide, his finger slipping against her tiny puckered hole. She made a small sensual sound, and Oliver bit his tongue when she rotated her hips against him.

He massaged her lightly, testing the waters, and she moaned, a shudder making her body shake as he waited for her reaction.

Her answer was to lift her head with a lazy, sexy smile, her makeup smudged, hair wild, before giving him a wet, eager kiss.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my "One Line of Dialogue" prompt request on Tumblr: [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/116443437899/is-that-a-challenge-mr-queen)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	11. Drabble: Salmon Ladder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: nikkibeckettcsm – “You do know that a no sex pact doesn't only affect me, right? You wouldn't be having sex either." "Dammit I did not think this thing through"

**“You do know that a no sex pact doesn't only affect me, right? You wouldn't be having sex either."**

**"Dammit, I did not think this thing through."**

“No, you did not.”

Oliver smiled. It wasn’t his usual Felicity smile - well, he had multiple Felicity smiles. He had the one that made butterflies stampeded across her stomach floor, he had the one that made her forget how to speak, the one that made her feel like she was the only thing in the entire world, the one that told her everything he wanted to do to her with those lips of his…

No, this was a different smile.

This was an Ollie smile. This was a pre-island smile, the kind of smile that said he was feeling pretty cocky.

Felicity glared at him. “This isn’t a joke, Oliver. Nobody even comes down here anymore.”

He chuckled, pulling his shirt off, and her mouth went dry. He was… glistening. How did a man glisten? It probably helped that it wasn’t very cool in the foundry that night. A heatwave had more than attacked Starling City - it was in the current process of annihilating it. She herself was wearing as little as she could get away with without showing too much.

Because she cared. About her coworkers. Her Team Arrow coworkers. Most of whom only showed their face when the city was under literal attack anymore. If it was a quiet night, or if they wanted to check in, or if they had a question, they called. Or texted. Or banged on the walls until they were sure they had been heard before coming downstairs.

Just because they’d walked in a few times and seen… _things_.

Well, she was done doing _things_ in the foundry, and she was going to take this seriously, even if Oliver wasn’t. People shouldn’t be uncomfortable in their workplace. Wasn’t that why sexual harassment laws were created? Did this count as sexual harassment? Was seeing two people engaging in _things_ harassing others?

_Yes._

Yes, it was, which was why it was time to stop the _things_.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t… ogle. She could ogle. She was certainly allowed to ogle her boyfriend. Oliver stretched his arms over his head, his muscle contracting and moving and gliding under his skin in a very sensual manner.

He moved into a weird tai chi movement that had him turning so she saw his back muscles _rippling_.

Okay, so this pact idea was really a horrible idea.

Felicity closed her eyes, whispering to herself, “No. I care. I care about other people. I am not a crazy nympho, I have control, I can control myself. See, this is me being in control.” She turned, heading back to her computers.

She heard him chuckle again behind her, and she grabbed her phone, purposely texting Roy that it was safe to be in the foundry again.

See, safety net. Precaution.

Because she cared.

Felicity sat down, pulling up some new algorithms on her computer when she heard the sharp clang of metal on metal. She stiffened, biting her tongue to stop herself from looking back.

And then he started going up the salmon ladder.

The air literally left her lungs as she listened to metal on metal. 

Her searches forgotten, she closed her eyes, perfectly imagining him as he went up and down the stupid, stupid thing. Her heart picked up at the thought, her skin feeling even more heated than it already was in the heat, a flush creeping along her skin, making her shiver.

He did a few sets, and she held onto her desk so hard her fingers were turning white as she remembered last night, when he’d picked her up, pressing her against the wall where he’d literally ravaged her. Just over there. Against her will, Felicity’s eyes flickered to the spot and a rush of arousal swept through her center. Her fingers twitched as she remembered how strong he’d been, holding her like she was nothing, the play of his muscles under her palms when he’d pinned her to the wall with his hips, his hands reaching down to hook under her thighs…

The man was muscle incarnate and he was hers and why was she over here and not over there again?

Right. She cared.

_She cared._

Felicity heard his boots when he landed and she took a shaky breath. Good, maybe it was too hot to keep going. Usually he did the thing for an hour, sometimes more, and she wasn’t sure she would have lasted an hour.

And then she heard the clang of metal and he was back on it.

“Damn it, Oliver,” she whispered.

Like she had zero control over her body, Felicity risked a quick glance over her shoulder, and froze at the sight. Oliver was nearly to the top, his face twisted in concentration, his muscles bunched and the _glistening_ … Felicity swallowed, slowly turning in her chair to watch, desperately trying to ignore the dull throb between her thighs, the tingle in her hardening nipples, the prospect of touching him, tasting him dancing along her nerves as he reached the top before dropping down.

There was something entirely too erotic about that damn salmon ladder. The way he had to hold himself, throw himself, catch himself, using every single muscle, making everything… move.

When he completed another set, Oliver hauled himself up, crossing his legs for balance, his muscles straining with the effort, and then he looked right at her.

The look was a promise.

A point to be made, that he didn’t give two shits about what they did down here, or who saw them, or why nobody came down here.

It was a reminder.

It told her everything he wanted to do to her, that he always wanted to, the things he wanted her to do to him, that he knew what he was doing on that salmon ladder, he knew exactly what he was doing when he had chosen it. They’d only been seeing each other for a few months, but he knew long before that what it did to her. How much she liked watching him. How much he enjoyed her watching him.

Felicity was up and moving before she knew what she was doing. She didn’t hear his breathy chuckle as he dropped to the ground, or the sound of her heels, or the hiss of the steam - she only heard the white noise rushing through her head as he smiled.

He opened his mouth to say something but Felicity grabbed his face and yanked him down, their lips crashing together. He moaned against her lips, wrapping his arms around her, pushing her until her back hit the ladder. She mewled, Oliver’s hands already yanking her dress up, his hot hands touching her hot skin, making her center quake with need.

Oh, she wanted him. She needed him, but she needed something else more.

He rubbed his hard cock against her lower stomach, grinding against her in a way that made her gasp, and Felicity broke off the kiss, pushing him back. Oliver immediately let her, his lips swollen from her kisses, his eyes wild, his hair in disarray from her fingers, and she followed, pushing him until his back hit the other side of the salmon ladder.

Felicity grabbed his belt, undoing it quickly, the button and zipper following before she shoved his pants down his hips. His eyes widened slightly, his pupils blowing wide. They stared at her each other as her hand dipped into his briefs.

She cupped his hard cock, squeezing lightly, and Oliver groaned, his hips bucking against her hand, his head falling back with a thud. Felicity leaned in, her lips grazing his sweat-damp chest as she massaged him and he moaned her name.

His hands found her arms, and she felt them shaking slightly as he held her close. She dragged her lips over him, her tongue darting out to taste him, and his grip on her tightened.

His cock was so hard already, and her fingers wound around him as she took his nipple into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it, and he let out a startled choked sound, one hand sliding up into her hair, pressing her closer as she squeezed his cock, moving her hand just enough to make him gasp.

Felicity smiled, dragging her teeth over him and he thrust into her hand, his fingers gripping her hair in a tight fist. She let him go, and he let out a small whimper from deep in his chest that made her heart skip a beat. She pushed his briefs down, freeing his cock, keeping her lips on his chest, and then his stomach, as she slowly sank to her knees.

His cock slid across her chest, silky smooth. A tiny bead of liquid already escaping left a wet trail across her skin. She kissed and licked her way down to him and she glanced up from under her lashes, her lips trembling with desire. 

He was staring down at her with hooded lids, his lips parted in a staggered pant as he watched her. His hands cupped her face, pressing her hair behind her ears and she blinked, her body responding to the visceral look in his eyes as he stared at her kneeling before him.

Her thighs were already slick with her juices and she squeezed them together.

Keeping her eyes on his, Felicity’s hand found his cock and slowly guided it to her mouth.

He whined softly, his eyes slipping shut for a split second when she wrapped her lips around his head before popping back open, unable to keep his eyes off her. She flicked her tongue against the tiny seam and his hands tightened in her hair, and she obliged, letting him sink his cock into her hot mouth.

“Oh god, Felicity,” he whispered, his hips thrusting shallowly and she pushed his hips back against the ladder, forcing him to stay still, and he obliged. She moved slowly, achingly slow, taking her time as she wet his entire length. he trembled underneath her when she took him as deep as she could, the head touching the back of her throat before easing off, her tongue running up along the thick vein growing along the side.

And then she sucked him hard.

“Fuck,” Oliver moaned, his fingers winding through her hair, holding her tight. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing as she started a slow bobbing motion, sucking on him in a slow torturous manner that had him letting out harsh, short pants. She was soft, gentle, easy, and she felt his frustration growing, as he forced himself to stay still, to let her do what she wanted. With her fee hand, she cupped his balls, squeezing them softly before she massaged them in time with her mouth and his body jerked.

Felicity started sucking harder. His moans grew louder as she took him in deeper with each small thrust. She could feel him tightening underneath her, his body tensing in anticipation, his fingers growing more urgent in her hair. He whispered her name, over and over, and she looked up at him just as he looked down at her, and the connection was explosive, sending a wave of arousal through her at the heat in his eyes.

“Harder,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers and she sucked harder, dragging her teeth across her length and he hissed, his body shaking. She tightened her fingers around the base of his cock, twisting, and his legs nearly gave out from underneath him, his head flying back, hitting the ladder hard.

“I’m so close, Felicity, just… _fuck_ …”

Felicity hummed around him, her tongue swirling over the head of his cock, caressing the tender seam where salty-sweet precum seeped.

His hands suddenly fisted painfully in her hair, and she relaxed her throat, letting him slide as deep as he could and she swallowed.

“Oh god,” he choked out, and she swallowed again when he thrust back in, her throat massaging his head just as she tightened her hand over his balls. She ignored her body’s natural reaction, letting him thrust into her as she sucked on his cock.

“Feli… Felici…” he whimpered. “Felicity… I can’t… oh fuck, I’m coming… I’m coming!”

Felicity sped up, squeezing him harder, massaging him harder, letting him thrust shallowly into her mouth and then she felt him stiffen, his balls tightening…

“Aahhh,” Oliver cried out as he came, spilling into her mouth. Felicity relaxed her throat, swallowing all of him, and he gripped her close, riding out his orgasm in her mouth. His back arched with a final shudder before he collapsed.

Felicity pulled back, smacking her lips, swallowing the remnants as Oliver slouched against the ladder. She kissed his hip bone, smiling, before using him to pull herself up.

His hands were limp and shaky in her hair.

Oliver opened his eyes just as she was licking his lips, and the darkness in her eyes only reminded her how much she had gotten off on that. She bit her lip as he caught his breath, and his hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb running over her lips.

The air was electric, the same as it always was between them - she’d thought it might have just been the built-up tension and anticipation the first time, but no, it was every time. Every single time he looked at her, every time he touched her, every time he entered her, made her come, made her scream his name.

Felicity whimpered at the thought, her eyes dropping to his lips for a microsecond.

Their eyes met, and then Oliver pulled her into him, his mouth crashing against hers. He groaned, tasting himself, and yanked her closer, his hands gripping her waist, his semi-erect cock rubbing between them.

And then he pushed her until her back was against the ladder again. He yanked his briefs and pants back into place before he dropped to his knees, tossing her thighs onto his shoulders, and he proceeded to eat her out through her panties.

And that was how Roy found them when he walked in a moment later.

He let out a startled shout, covering his eyes as he turned blindly, running away, yelling, “Last time, blondie, _last time_!”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my "One Line of Dialogue" prompt request on Tumblr: [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/116797945539/you-do-know-that-a-no-sex-pact-doesnt-only)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	12. Need (3x20 Drabble #1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Anonymous** asked: My friend and I were watching the episode last night and we had an argument over the Olicity love scene. My friend swears to everything that when Oliver was on top of Felicity his hand couldn't be seen because he's fingering her but I just think he was holding onto her waist. Thoughts?

  
  
[via this very important gifset](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117171678699)  


Felicity’s skin was on fire, and every inch more that Oliver claimed stoked it faster and hotter. It was almost too much; he was consuming her, claiming her, finally taking what had been his since long before she realized she was in love with him.

Felicity widened her legs, and Oliver sunk deeper against her, the hard bulge straining in his pants rubbing against the thick seam of her jeans, and he pushed it right up against her sensitive nubbin, sending a shock of pleasure straight to her core.

She whimpered, gasping as he thrust against her again, pressing harder. Her thighs clenched him closer before his lips covered hers, swallowing her moans.

“Felicity,” he sighed, so softly, so gently. She shivered at the depth of emotion in his voice, and it raced across the surface of her skin, dancing over her nerves, igniting everything in its path.

She had known for a long time that Oliver Queen loved her, from the way he looked at her, the way he would touch her, the small smiles, the lingering thoughts etched all over his face, but she had never known what it was like to _be_ loved by him.

For him to show her that love, and to accept the love she showed him.

“Oh Oliver,” she whispered, her voice cracking as their love filled her chest. 

She loved him, and he loved her, and this was it, everything they had waited for.

Oliver kissed her lovingly, and she nearly came apart at the seams as he made love to her in every way possible, from his kisses to his touches, to his hips thrusting against the heat waiting for him between her thighs.

Felicity gripped him closer, digging her fingers into his shoulders. His heated skin scorched her palms, already a fine layer of sweat making him slick as his lips covered hers again in chaste, uneven kisses.

They breathed each other’s air as they gasped, as they moved against each other, the act so intimate already, it was overwhelming.

His hand slid down her side, skating over her with a feather touch that left goosebumps behind. She shivered again, the goosebumps feeling like tiny knives razing her skin, his touch leaving her raw. He slipped his fingers under the band of her jeans, under her panties, massaging her hip as he rotated his own against her.

She was already so ready for him, the silky wetness making her feel slick and open and needy. His fingers dug into her hip harder, his kisses becoming harsher as he rubbed himself against her harder.

Felicity hiked her leg up over his hip, giving him a better angle, opening herself to him more. The hard seams of their jeans between them pushed against her clit, and she mewled, arching her hips to get closer.  
The pleasure building inside her was subtle but sharp, and she gasped into his mouth.

She wanted him to stop, she wanted to feel him inside her as quickly as possible, she didn’t want to wait any longer, but the release growing inside her had her kissing him deeper, her tongue matching his with  
each rotating thrust of his hips.

Oliver’s hand slid deeper into her pants, and he lifted up so his hand slipped under her ass and he gripped her cheek in a painful grasp, pulling her tighter against him as he rubbed himself against her.

“Oliver,” Felicity gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, her fingers gripping him tighter. “Oliver, Ol… I’m… I can’t…”

Felicity held him closer as Oliver used his hold on her ass to pull her up against his clothed cock as he pushed her further.

Everything felt like it was burning inside her, outside of her, everything.

Oliver pressed his face into her neck, sucking and licking and tasting her, his lips finding her ear. He pulled her earlobe into his mouth and sunk his teeth in, and she cried out as it sent a heated shock through her, straight for her core.

“Let me hear you come for me, Felicity,” he whispered through harsh pants. “Please come for me, please…”

“Oh… Oliv… er, Oliver, I…” she choked out, her nails digging into his muscles, her arms straining to hold him.

He sucked on her neck, blanketing her body with his as he chased her orgasm with her, his hips moving faster, his fingers gripping her ass so tightly, urging her on, and then…

Felicity came with a ragged shout, her body jerking up against him. Her release flooded her sex, soaking through her panties and jeans as he rubbed harder, pushing her higher, riding it out with her.

“Oliver,” she moaned, pressing her face to the side of his head and he pulled back, his lips seeking hers and their kiss was explosive. Her orgasm throbbed through her, her heartbeat racing, everything so  
liquid, so consuming, so _hot_.

She needed more.

She needed him. Inside her.

“Oliver, please, I need you,” she whispered frantically, her touches becoming frenzied. “I need you.”

“I’m here,” he whispered against her lips. “i’m here, Felicity.”

He sat back, just enough to undo her jeans and pull them and her panties down her hips. They were single-minded in their need for each other, and he only had enough state of mind to yank off one of her  
shoes, pulling her jeans off one leg before he undid his pants.

His cock sprang free, and Felicity barely had a second to appreciate him and everything he was before he was over her again, pressing himself to her entrance.

Without preamble, he thrust home, filling her completely, and Felicity shouted his name, wrapping herself around him, cradling him, as he thrust home over and over again, filling her, taking her, loving her.

“I love you,” he groaned. “I love you so much, I love you, Felicity.”

She came again, her walls rippling around him, the sound of his skin slapping hers filling the room in time with their needy cries, and he let go a second later, spilling into her, marking her forever as his as she  
claimed him as hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this before I realized that they were _totally under the covers and totally nekkid, oh god._ So I rewrote the drabble in the next chapter...
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> ([Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117191471839/my-friend-and-i-were-watching-the-episode-last))


	13. Need (3x20 Drabble #2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I watched this scene about 5,398 more times, I realized they were under the covers. I'm naturally blonde, this is my defense. No, my defense is that I write smut in too much detail, and I got barely a fade into them doing the deed. :P
> 
> And then there was the reverse gif.

  
  
([reversed gif by the amazing thatonekimgirl](http://thatonekimgirl.tumblr.com/post/117200438921/i-made-another-reverse-gif-because-im-trash))

Oliver slipped his hand down her stomach, his fingers grazing across her taut muscles, over the gentle feminine slope and down. She was naked, completely bare and open to his touch, and he slipped his other hand into her hair, wrapping the strands into a tight fist. He dug his nails into his palm for control as she undulated underneath him, arching her chest and then her hips up towards him. Her wet heat grazed the head of his cock, and his hips jerked against her. He was so eager, so needy; he had waited so long for her, for this, and he trembled with the urge to just grab her hips and thrust into her without abandon, to find the one place he could call home.

But he held back. He needed… he wouldn’t last, it had been too long.

Oliver pushed his tongue into her mouth, seeking hers out, and she met him with equal ardor as his fingers slid through her welcoming heat. He groaned, slipping through the pooling wetness, gliding across her tender clit and puffy lips.

She took a hitched breath and dug her nails into his neck.

He pressed a finger into her silky channel.

She whimpered, and he pressed a second in, pushing his palm against her clit and she rose to meet him. Her walls clamped down around his fingers, sucking him in deeper, and he pressed his aching cock against her soft inner thigh, already weeping, spreading precum all over her.

Her juices soaked his hand, slipping through his fingers.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips. “Oliver…”

She lifted her legs, pulling her knees up higher, spreading herself for him and his fingers slipped out of her.

She nodded, moaning, “Yes,” but he still held back, his fingers moving up to her clit where he gently rubbed her. Her entrance pulsed with need as she moaned, his lips cutting off her cry, and he rubbed faster, preparing her.

He needed her to come with him.

He needed to feel her coming around him, because of him, for him.

He needed it, because he knew he wouldn’t last when he finally felt her around him.

But then she whispered, “Oliver, I need you in me. Now,” and Oliver became undone.

Oliver gripped himself and pressed the head of his cock to her entrance, gently pressing forward. He hissed, and she gasped, and then he thrust home, pushing her up into the pillows with the force of it, his mouth swallowing her cries of pleasure as he filled her, as she took him inside her, as they became one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> ([Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117206837819/thatonekimgirl-i-made-another-reverse-gif))


	14. Need (3x20 Drabble #3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alert: Reversed gifs send me into overdrive.

  
  
([reversed gif by the amazing thatonekimgirl](http://thatonekimgirl.tumblr.com/post/117153273171/i-reversed-the-scene-and-made-a-very-dirty-gif))

Felicity shivered as Oliver dropped to his knees before her.

His eyes never left hers, his hands dragged down her sides to the hem of her jeans. Even in the darkened room she could see his pupils were blown wide, love and desire warring for dominance on his face as he slowly unbuttoned her jeans.

Her hands twitched at her sides, her palms itchy with nerves and anticipation, feeling incredibly exposed but so protected at the same time as Oliver slowly pulled her zipper down, his eyes still on hers; she felt his short, hot pants against her stomach, and he licked his lips when he pulled her pants open.

Felicity shuddered, her skin feeling too hot, too tight, as he leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right above her belly button. Her eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of his beard rasping against her skin, his tongue darting out to sooth the raw spots he was leaving behind. She carded her fingers through his hair, opening her eyes to see his had never left her face.

Her sex throbbed with need at the determination in his eyes, and he gripped her hips, slowly pushing her backwards. He followed on his knees, their gaze never breaking, his eyes shining at the abject trust she was showing in letting him guide her wherever he wanted.

Felicity inhaled quickly when her back hit the cold bedposts. A silky knot dug in her back and she reached behind her, pushing it out of the way as Oliver’s fingers hooked in her jeans, tugging them down along with her panties.

“Boots,” she whispered, and he smirked at her, abandoning her pants to kneel before her, his fingers running up along the inside of her shoes where he found a small zipper.

Felicity’s stomach clenched as Oliver reverently unzipped them and tugged them off, gently setting them to the side, like he was afraid to hurt them. Her socks came off next, his fingers grazing her painted toenails - red, to match her fingernails - before he ran his hands back up her legs.

Sensation sizzled across her nerves as his warm hands made their way up her calves, his thumbs caressing her knees in a way that made them feel like jelly, and then up her thighs. He pressed a simple kiss to one thigh as he made his way up, another, and then another at her hip; he continued up, letting out a hot breath as he dragged his lips across her lower stomach, and everything inside her quaked with anticipation. His nose hooked in her belly button and his tongue darted out to taste her lower stomach, so close to where she ached to feel it.

He tugged her pants down again, and she wiggled her hips to aid him, earning herself a small smile from him. He had her pants off in a split second, lifting her legs for her and then tossed them aside before looking back up at her, and her heart seized.

She’d never felt this connected to anyone in her entire life, much less during such an intimate moment like this.

It was like he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, like he couldn’t get enough of the new connection blossoming between them. They had always had something there, something that bound them, but this was more, so much more. When she looked into his eyes, she saw everything: his heart, his soul, his past, his future, his present.

It was all there, and he was giving it all to her, to hold, to cherish, to protect.

Felicity smiled down at him, barely aware of the fact that she was standing before him completely naked except for her bra.

She cupped his face, her fingers tracing his temples, and he smiled back, a smile so soft and full of love and a joy she had never seen on Oliver Queen’s face that her heart clamored up her throat.

And then the intensity in his eyes quadrupled as his intentions shifted, and she swore she felt them inside her own body as he leaned in again, pressing a chaste kiss to her stomach, his hands running up and down her sides before he grasped her hips.

He kissed his way towards her center, and Felicity kept her eyes on him as much as she could, but the feeling of him touching her, caressing her, holding her - _worshipping her_ \- it was almost too much, to the point where she felt like everything was on fire.

She knew what he was doing, where he was going, and she bit her lip, her juices making her thighs slick. She was about to grab his hands and pull him onto the bed with her - sans those damn pants, of course - when Oliver abandoned her hips and slipped his hands between her thighs.

Felicity let out a tiny, “Oh,” when he gripped the back of her legs and lifted her up, sliding her up the bedpost like she weighed absolutely nothing, slipping her legs over his shoulders.

“Oliver,” she gasped in surprise, her hands flying to his head for something to hold onto, but his hands were already moving up, grasping her waist, holding the entirety of her weight on his shoulders, anchoring her in place against the post.

He took a deep breathe, inhaling her scent and Felicity whimpered at the sight of his head between her legs, of him holding her up, his muscles hard underneath her legs, his hands sure and steady, and she knew - she knew to the very core of her foundation - that he wouldn’t drop her.

Oliver shifted forward, spreading her legs wider, pressing her harder against the post, and he pressed his face against her sex, making her moan, before his tongue licked a long line all the way from wet entrance up to her clit.

Felicity moaned, tossing her head back against the post. He circled her clit teasingly, his stubble chin pressing up against her eagerly, pushing past her wet lips, razing the tender skin there.

“Oliver,” she whispered; the dual sensations of his soft tongue gently licking her clit and his hard chin pressing up against her sex had her gasping for air, her hands fisting his hair.

And then Oliver wrapped his lips around her little clit and hummed.

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped, one hand flying above her head to hold the post as the other held his hair tighter, pushing his face closer as she ground down on him. It was a torturous mixture of doing everything but nothing at the same time, and he hummed louder, the vibrations skittering across her sensitive flesh, pushing her higher and higher, but keeping her on the edge of the red-hot pleasure she could feel, so close… 

Felicity mindlessly rotated her hips against his face, and his hands tightened at her sides, his fingers digging into her ribs, seeking her attention and she pried her eyes open, her breathless whimpers filling the room in concert with his deep humming as she looked down at him to see his eyes already on her, waiting.

The instant their eyes met, he sucked her clit into his mouth and she cried out, pleasure whipping through her ferociously, shoving her over the edge. 

Her orgasm built quickly, a white hot searing pleasure that coiled deep in her core, spreading like lava through her body, scorching her from the inside out as he pushed her higher.

His eyes stayed on hers as he twisted his jaw, pressing his bearded chin right where she needed him and her cries became more desperate.

“Oliver,” Felicity whined, unable to tear her eyes from his as he ate her out, pressing her higher up the post, his tongue dancing on her clit, his mouth becoming more demanding.

Their eyes stayed locked - his growing darker and stormier with need - and the connection sizzled through her, propelling her higher than she’d ever been as she watched him, and he watched her.

Oliver hardened his tongue, massaging her clit in long, quick movements, eliciting a gaspy, “Yes, right there, right there… don’t stop, Oliv-er… don’t… don’t stop!” as Felicity thrust down on his face, her pleasure building and building…

The coil in her center released and Felicity came with a guttural shout, her voice echoing through the room, her hips moving wildly against Oliver’s face.

He pushed her harder against the post, and he hummed again, forcing Felicity over the precipice again, this one sharp and short, and with his name on her lips, everything around her went dark as he feasted on her, her orgasm smearing across his face, his dark eyes never leaving her.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> ([Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117217734409/i-had-to-write-this-the-second-i-saw-it-i-had))


	15. Need (3x20 Drabble #4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more with a little speculation about what his fingers might be doing under that sheet...

  
  


His thrusts were gentle and thorough, slow and consuming, like he was taking his time, wanting to learn her every reaction, what made her gasp, made her cry out, made her whisper his name.

Felicity hooked her foot over his leg, opening herself further for him and he thrust into her deeper, filling her like she’d never felt before. Oh, she’d had plenty of sex, but this… this was… _mind-blowing_.

Their every move, every touch, every grasp, every thrust, it was all accented by their feelings for each other, the promise their love opened in each other. It was as much a promise as it was a statement: they loved each other, deeply, intensely, and this, this was how they showed it.

Sensation rained through her, her nerves starting to tingle as Oliver’s lips slid from her mouth, dragging across her cheek. She barely had the state of mind to arch into his mouth, her body doing it for her to seek more attention from his lips, as his hand slipped under the blanket, skating down her side. And then he angled his hips, his shoulders tensing as he held himself up, and his fingers slid through her wet folds, finding her clit.

The second he grazed it, his teeth nipped at her throat. Felicity gasped his name, his fingers slipping against the sensitive nubbin.

Just as his thrusts were slow and loving, so were his fingers as he took his time, seeing how she reacted. When he slid across the left side, she moaned, but then he hit the right side and her leg tightened over his hip as white hot pleasure blossomed inside her. He rubbed the right side, his hips gaining speed, his kisses on her neck drugging as he pushed her up, up…

A breathy cry fell from her lips when she came against his fingers, her walls gripping him tightly insider her, making him choke, “Oh god, Felicity…” before his wet fingers gripped her hip, and he lifted her up, sliding in even deeper…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> ([Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117312215954/this-is-your-daily-reminder-that-around-the-end-of))


	16. Drabble: Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: torirobinette - "I thought you were going to die, and I thought I was going to lose you."

**"I thought you were going to die, and I thought I was going to lose you."**

“But you didn’t.”

A few months ago, that wouldn’t have been his response. it was a testament to how far they’d come since the night they’d given into each other in Nanda Parbat, since the endless weeks between those perfect stolen moments and finally defeating the League, since Oliver had come back to her and they’d gotten to drive off into a literal sunset…

_Still._

It didn’t change the fact that he almost died. Again.

It had been five days since his “accident” - or as Felicity liked to call it boneheaded stupidity when he’d leapt off a building after getting shot three times. He’d argued that he’d had nowhere to go, but she’d only looked pointedly at the dislocated shoulder he’d acquired when he’d barely managed to send out his grappling hook before he became an “Arrow pancake.”

It had taken her and Diggle too long to find him. The building was under construction and he’d crashed through an unfinished floor, landing on the level below, and the sight of him through the giant hole in the ceiling, lying in a pool of blood slowly growing around him…

Boneheaded stupidity was really too nice actually.

And now he was laid up in her apartment, on her overly uncomfortable foldout couch because her bed was too small for these shenanigans - it was fine for other shenanigans, but not in-need-of-medical-attention shenanigans - giving her _that look_.

“Turn off your bedroom eyes, Oliver, it’s not happening.”

“C’mere,” Oliver said, his words slightly slurred from some of Diggle’s special aspirins, trying to reach for her, but the movement pulled on the bullet wound in his left bicep and when he winced, it pulled on his right dislocated shoulder, making him hiss.

“Oh yeah, you’re in great shape to toss me over your shoulder, caveman.”

Oliver glowered at her, looking so cutely petulant she couldn’t hold back her giggle. She bit her bottom lip to stop it when his petulance morphed back into desire.

“I love when you laugh,” he mused, his lips quirking and she leveled him with a look.

“It’s nice to know all you think about when you’re on happy pills is sex.”

“Trust me, Felicity, I am _always_ thinking about it.” Oliver licked his lips, and Felicity pinched hers, ignoring the warm pull in the pit of her stomach at the sight. But he knew her too well and he did it again, his eyes roving over her body - delicately clad in only his white button-up shirt that she’d commandeered several months ago. “It doesn’t matter where we are, what we’re doing, or who we’re with, I always want you.”

“Oliver…”

“I’ve had to watch you walk around in only my shirt for the last four damn days, Felicity,” Oliver said, his voice low and her stupid body responded to it like a moth to a flame. His eyes grew heated, slipping down to her chest. “Without a bra…” He smiled when he saw her peaked nipples through his shirt before his eyes slid lower and the warm needy tug in her stomach grew heavier as he said, “Without any panties.”

Felicity swallowed.

“I’ve had to sit back and think about every single thing I want to do to you, and I’m done waiting.”

“Oliver…” Felicity shifted, feeling the slickness between her thighs, the material of the shirt brushing against her hard nipples. “I don’t want to to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Their eyes stayed locked for a heady moment, the tension in her body growing tighter and tighter. He licked his lips again and Felicity finally huffed. “Fine.” He gave her a triumphant smile and she pointed at him. “But the only way this will work is if you don’t move.”

Oliver nodded rapidly. “Got it.”

“I’m serious, Oliver, John will kill me if we pull all your stitches.”

“Yep. No moving.” Felicity sat up and he watched her every move. “Shirt off.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow at him, but did as he asked, slowly unbuttoning the dress shirt. His eyes grew darker with each button until she had it undone… 

But she didn’t open it.

“No moving,” she said again, and he glowered at her. Felicity grinned, slipping the shirt off. His eyes drank her in as she pulled his blanket off and tugged his pants down. He hissed when she grasped his thick hardness, straddling him, careful to not jostle any of his wounds.

Need flooded her at the thought of him being prone underneath her, unable to do anything but let her control everything. Her nipples grew harder, tingling, her breaths becoming shallow as she stared down at him and he returned her heated gaze, his throat flexing when he swallowed.

“Felicity,” he whispered and she position him at her entrance.

Oliver mindlessly moved to grab her waist, to yank her closer, and Felicity gave him a stern, “Oliver,” that he promptly ignored, pushing his hips up, his cock rubbing against her hand as he pushed the head into her wet folds. She barely choked out a breath as Oliver shot her a dark look, his eyes hooded. “I don’t fucking care, Felicity, I need to get inside you. _Now_.”

He thrust up again and Felicity had enough state of mind to at least check to make sure there was no blood seeping through his bandages before she took him inside her, taking him in as deep as he could go. 

“Aaahhhh,” Oliver moaned, his back arching. He lifted his arms to touch her, but he hissed when the movement pulled on his injuries again.

“Oliver,” Felicity said, trying to go for admonishing, but her words came out in more of a moan.

Oliver grasped her thighs instead, his face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and pain and she paused, her brow furrowing in concern, but he shook his head rapidly.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop,” he whispered urgently, his eyes roving across her as she moved her hips gently. “Come here.”

Felicity dropped over him, bracing herself on his pillow. His kiss was relentless, unleashing all the frustration and pain and need they had been living in over the past few days, and she met him with equal ardor. He swallowed her moans as her hips moved against him.

Oliver groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest and into hers, and she felt his hands on her back, grasping at her desperately. One hand started sliding down her hip while the other tried to lift up her back, but his wounds stopped him.

“Damn it,” Oliver moaned against her lips. “I can’t…”

“Then don’t,” Felicity whispered. “No moving, Oliver.”

“I’m so… close though,” he said through gritted teeth, his head falling back, his neck strained, his fingers grasping at her back. She pressed her face against his neck, dropping chaste kisses, the sharp tugs on her back shooting straight for her center as he whispered, “I want you to come with me.”

Felicity’s walls clenched around him at his words, and he let out a strangled moan. Felicity dragged her lips up his stubbled jaw, mirroring her soft thrusts, up to his ear where she whispered, “What do you want me to do, Oliver?”

His hands dug into her back harder as he said, “I can’t reach you. I want you to… touch yourself. For me.”

Felicity slipped her hand down between them. His left arm fell down, giving her room and he grasped her thigh tightly, his other hand still holding onto her back.

Felicity hissed when her fingers found her slick clit.

“Touch yourself like I would, rub yourself…” Felicity whimpered, doing exactly as he said, her hips moving faster and his voice cracked as he continued, “Oh god, just like that, yes… Felicity… make yourself come. Ride me, ride me…” Felicity’s fingers rubbed hard taut circles over her engorged clit, her hips moving faster.

She cried out when she hit her precipice, pleasure blooming inside her and she rubbed faster, Oliver’s words, “Harder, ride me…” urging her on, her nubbin growing harder under her fingers as his thick hardness filled her over and over…

Oliver came with a guttural shout, his hips arching into her, and it pushed her over her own edge.

“Aaahhh!” she cried out, pleasure rocketing through her. “Oh god… Oliver…”

Oliver’s hands held her tightly, his face pressed against the crown of her head as her hips jerked over him, her pulsating walls sucking him in deeper before she finally collapsed, barely keeping herself from falling on top of him.

He hugged her as close to him as he possibly could.

“Worth it,” he whispered breathlessly into her hair. “So worth it.”

Felicity laughed.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my "One Line of Dialogue" prompt request on Tumblr: [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117611670784/i-thought-you-were-going-to-die-and-i-thought-i)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	17. Come Home To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3x21 spec fic for the rooftop scene.
> 
> Smut Drabble Prompt: Anonymous - Felicity banging the Al-Sahim out of Oliver. Basically, I know all of the current Al-Sahim fics are excited about a more dominant animalistic side of Oliver, but I would love to see that countered by a fed up Felicity who will do whatever it takes to get her man back. Does that make sense?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The spec for 3x21 has been done many times, and I wasn’t going to because of that… but then I changed my mind! I got a lot of prompts for Al Sah-him facing Felicity, but this one spoke to my baser side - I included a lot more than what this prompt suggests though, and listed the other two prompts that helped inspire it.
> 
> Posted rather hastily before 3x21 aired - all mistakes are mine.
> 
> **My take on this scene is DARK and VIOLENT, and it includes some slight non-consensual. You’ve been warned.**

  
  
[gif source](http://tommymerlyn.gq/post/117134065530/al-sah-him-heir-to-the-demon)  


The second Nyssa said that Oliver was going to come after her, Felicity wanted to say, “No. No, Oliver would never do that.”

But then Nyssa told her the process a person went through when they joined the League. The stripping of that person’s identity, slowly pulling away bits and pieces until there was nothing left but the weapon, a tool to be sent out, doing the bidding of its master, only heeding one rule: loyalty to the League, above all else, including one’s self.

Felicity thought her imagination might have been enough to cover what that might mean for Oliver, but then Nyssa had gone into specifics, explaining _how_ it was done. Essentially, it was torture, not only of the body, but of the mind. Nyssa started describing waterboarding, seclusion, removal of certain parts of the body before Felicity’s loud voice had come out … and then she’d gone into the mind-altering drugs Ra’s had at his disposal, similar to what Malcolm had done to Thea, but these were used to delve deep, to _erase_ …

It all left her with horrific nightmares of someone literally peeling Oliver’s skin off, taking memories of their time together, memories of Oliver’s family and friends, memories of his entire life away with each strip until there was nothing but a cold-blooded killer left in Oliver’s place.

Al Sah-him.

Still, a small slice of doubt had existed in the back of her mind: what if? What if he was strong enough, what if he could overcome it, come back to himself, to Thea… to her?

What if?

It was three weeks of thinking this, of watching Nyssa train and prepare for the ultimate battle she said her father would be sending her way - it was the first step towards becoming Ra’s, eliminating all of his natural-born heirs - and waking every few hours, covered in a cold sweat, still seeing flashes of the nightmares that plagued her, all filled with a screaming Oliver, a dying Oliver, the man she loved slowly being gutted by the man he was being forced to become…

It was three weeks until she finally saw him again, when she saw that everything Nyssa had said was right, that the man she loved - the man who loved her, who had taken those few precious moments they’d had Nanda Parbat to show her that and so much more - was gone.

It was three weeks after that that she finally snapped.

John had told her to stay at his apartment, their new base of operations until they found a more permanent spot, but she’d immediately said, “To hell with that,” when he, Nyssa and Laurel had left.

_‘It’s not Oliver, Felicity, you didn’t see him. He’s like… a shadow, a ghost. All that’s left of him is us.’_

_‘Then all the more reason for me to go!’_

_‘No, I need eyes, Felicity, I need you guiding us. Let me bring him to you. Please.’_

But the second she saw Oliver - the cold, hard, emotionless mask that made him look like a stranger, an entirely different person - Felicity hadn’t been able to stay away.

It was _Oliver_.

She tracked them to a rooftop in the center of the collapsed part of the Glades - all of the buildings were in tatters, shut up and boarded to keep people from going into the hazardous areas.

From the street below she heard Laurel’s canary cry, the sound of glass shattering and gunfire, and the specific sound of a bow releasing an arrow, the sharp clang of a sword slicing the arrow out of the air.

Felicity clamored up the fire escape, not even trying to be quiet about it. Her heel slipped into one of the grated steps, yanking her to a painful stop. She kicked her foot free, hearing a pained shout up above, but her heel didn’t budge. Felicity pulled her foot out of the boot, slipping the other off and left them behind as she raced up. Another gunshot rang out and Felicity pushed harder, the hard metal digging into her feet as she finally reached the top.

She gripped the edge of the building, pulling herself over, her eyes immediately finding Oliver - but it wasn’t her Oliver.

His hood was off, his mask gone, but the look on his face was stone cold.

He stalked up to Nyssa where she laid in cracked gravel, two arrows in her chest.

Felicity froze as Oliver dropped his bow, dropping to a knee next to her and he leaned down, his hands cradling her jaw as he prepared to snap her neck.

“Oliver, stop!”

Felicity’s sharp yell echoed over the rooftop, causing Diggle to push himself up where he’d been laying, his hand over a wound in his stomach. Laurel was out cold next to him, and the other League members Oliver had brought with him were knocked out or dead, scattered all over the place roof.

Oliver froze.

“Felicity, no,” Diggle managed, his voice faltering, but she ignored him, pulling herself up on the roof. The gravel hurt her bare feet, but she barely noticed it as she tentatively made her way towards Oliver.

He was still poised over Nyssa, his hands still on her blood-smeared face. Her breathing was wet and uneven, sounding like one of the arrows had pierced a lung, but her eyes were as fierce as ever, glaring up at Oliver, challenging him to do it.

“Oliver?” Felicity asked as she approached. He didn’t react. “Oliver, let her go.”

Oliver merely met Nyssa’s gaze, showing nothing. He merely looked contemplative, like he was thinking about which angle snapping her neck would be the cleanest.

“Oliver!” Felicity growled, but he still didn’t respond.

Instead, Felicity watched his fingers tighten on Nyssa’s jaw, heard her strangled gasp for air, and Felicity acted.

There was no time for thinking, no time for questioning. She stepped up, grabbing Oliver’s shoulders and yanked him back as hard as she could. He wasn’t prepared for it, and his grip on Nyssa slipped enough for her to move. She swung her fist up, hitting him square in the face and Oliver’s head whipped to the side just as Laurel appeared out of nowhere, jumping in the air, her boots colliding with Oliver’s chest. She knocked him backwards, sending Felicity stumbling back to avoid him.

Laurel was already at Nyssa’s side, hauling her into her arms and they were making a run for it when Felicity felt John’s arm on her elbow.

“Felicity, come on,” he said, and she spun, already shaking her head but paused when she saw the gaping hole in his abdomen.

Her eyes widened - it was small, like it was from an arrow. She knew enough medicine to know it wasn’t fatal, that Oliver hadn’t taken the shot to kill, and the logical thought sent a rush of relief crashing through her, before clashing violently with the thought that it was Oliver that had shot Digg.

“John…” It may not be fatal, but if it wasn’t taken care of soon, it would be. Felicity pushed him away, making him wince when his wound jostled. “Go.”

“Felicity!” he snapped, grabbing her arm, but she slipped his hold easily. His eyes widened incredulously. “I’m not leaving you up here with him.” 

“You have to,” she replied. She heard Oliver slowly standing behind her, his boots grating on the gravel, and Diggle’s eyes slid over to him. But she didn’t turn. “Go.”

“Felicity-”

“I said go!” she said, the word filled with sharp finality and Diggle jerked back like she’d slapped him. Her mouth quivered, wanting to apologize, but she didn’t, and she saw the second he recognized her resolve.

Still, he shook his head, but she stepped back, towards Oliver.

“ _Go_.”

And then she turned away from him, facing Oliver.

She didn’t hear Diggle leaving; all she heard was the sound of her heart racing in her chest as Oliver stared at her, no recognition in his eyes.

“Oliver?” She took a hesitant step towards him, and he merely cocked his head. “I know you’re normally pretty stoic, but I think you might be taking it a little too far this time.”

Her lame joke fell on deaf ears; he didn’t even blink, and her heart sank, taking everything inside her with it.

“Oliver-”

“My name _was_ Oliver Queen,” he said, his voice rasping and Felicity stopped at the sound, dread filling her veins as he narrowed his eyes at her, and for the first time in her entire life, she was afraid of him. “I am now Al Sah-him.”

“No,” Felicity said, her voice shaking. She forced herself to take a step towards him, but the fear running through her veins made her limbs heavy. “You are Oliver Queen.”

His eyes narrowed into a hard glare, one that made her stop breathing. The man staring back at her right now, the man looking at her like she was nothing more than an obstacle, something to cut down to get to his goal… was not Oliver. She didn’t see any Oliver.

“I am Al Sah-him, Warith al Ghul, Heir to the Demon,” he said slowly, his voice hard. “And you will get out of my way.”

Felicity faltered at his words.

_And you will get out of my way._

Her lungs felt seven times too small for the amount of oxygen her body was demanding, her veins too small for the adrenaline shoving its way through her system, as Felicity shook her head.

“No,” she said, tears blurring her vision. Two slipped down her cheek, and he didn’t react. She stepped closer, his words echoing in her head.

He was unarmed, as far as she could tell, but she knew he was the real weapon, the real danger. If he wanted to, he could reach out and kill her in fifty different ways before she knew what was happening.

His words repeated over and over in her head.

_My name was Oliver Queen._

_I am Al Sah-him._

_You will get out of my way._

“No,” she repeated. “No, if you want me out of the way, Oliver, you’re going to have to move me.”

Surprise colored his features, but nothing else.

He didn’t move.

“Move,” he said simply, and Felicity shook her head, stepping closer until there was nothing but a few inches between them. She looked up at him, a brisk wind rolling over the roof, making the tears on her cheeks burn.

“Move!” he growled, making her flinch.

He curled his hands into tight fists and her chest expanded with anguish, but she didn’t move. His muscles were tense, like he wanted to do just that - he wanted to move her… but he didn’t.

He didn’t move her.

Felicity finally noticed the fine tremble dancing along the lines of his body. He could so easily step back, run the other way, jump off the building, _disappear_ … but he didn’t do any of that.

Instead his eyes were locked on hers, and for a split second, she thought she saw _something_.

It was enough.

Felicity reached for him, cupping his face between her hands and he jerked back like she’d burned him, but she didn’t let go. He careened away from her, and she followed, not feeling the harsh rocks on her bare feet, or the cold wind on her bare legs, or the loose strands that had pulled from her ponytail.

She only saw him.

She only saw Oliver.

Oliver gripped her wrists tightly and wrenched away from her touch, using the momentum to push her away. Felicity stumbled back, the skin on her wrists burning from the harsh twist, but also from the fact that it was _his_ touch.

He still didn’t run.

“I was Oliver Queen…” His trembling became worse, and she saw his lips quivering as he said with emphasis, “I am Al Sah-him.”

“No,” Felicity snapped, shaking her head. She came towards him again, and a look of pure fright danced over his face, and her heart broke as she reached for him again. His face was flushed, his skin heated under her hands and he tried to pull away again, but she didn’t let him.

“You are Oliver,” she said, and he pulled away again, but she dug her nails into his skull, holding on as hard as she could as she said through gritted teeth, “You are Oliver Queen. You are not a killer, do you hear me? You are a good man, the man I love. I love you, Oliver.”

The last word came out in a choked whisper and he froze.

“I love you, Oliver,” she said again, her voice cracking.

He shook his head, staring at her, his face still blank. But a thin layer of tears started welling in his eyes, and her heart clenched as she held onto him harder, not wondering how it was possible that this gigantic man who had been turned into a murderous assassin wasn’t breaking free from her hold. 

“I love you,” she said again, and something in him shifted.

The cold, hard mask slipped back in place, and a sob fell from her throat as she whispered, “No,” just as he reached up, grabbing her wrists in an unyielding grasp.

“Oliver,” she whispered, watching Al Sah-him take over, push the glimmer of terror he’d shown her away. “No, Oliver-”

“I. Am,” he said, his voice low with finality. His hold on her wrists grew so painful it made her cry out. “Al Sah-him.”

Oliver shoved her with so much force she didn’t get the chance to get her feet under her. Felicity landed on her back with a painful exhale, the shock of the fall and the sharp gravel digging into her back making everything grow dim for a split second before the world sharpened once more.

Oliver had already turned away.

He stepped over dead members of his League, and picked up his bow. Felicity fought to take a deep breath as she pushed herself up to her feet, but it was like someone had depressurized her lungs.

And then Oliver turned back to her and his eyes passed over her passively as he made his way towards the fire escape where the others had gone. 

He walked right past her.

“Oliver, please stop,” she said to his back. “Oliver!”

Nothing.

For many years, Felicity would wonder how in the hell she had enough energy coursing in her to stumble a few feet to her left, towards a broken skylight, towards where a pile of bricks sat, chipped and forgotten; how the hell she found it in her to pick one up and throw it at him as hard as she could.

The brick hit Oliver square in the back and he paused, long enough for her to grab the other and to throw it just as hard, an ugly yell ripping from her throat, echoing across the roof. He turned and the brick clipped him across the eyebrow.

Oliver grunted, his hand coming up to the gash she’d just cut over his eye. He pulled his hand away, looking at her, but she was already there.

Felicity grabbed his face again, pulling him down her level, and pressed her lips to his.

Al Sah-him’s lips were nothing like Oliver Queen’s.

The lips she kissed were cold and dry, non-responsive, and he immediately pulled away from her, but Felicity wasn’t having it. She grabbed the back of his neck, felt his muscles straining under her hand, and pulled herself up, kissing him again. He growled in frustration, moving to shove her off, and she nipped at his lips as hard as she could.

Oliver yanked back, hissing, and Felicity grabbed his chin, taking advantage of his open mouth to shove her tongue against his.

Felicity felt like she was possessed.

Rational thought flew out the window as she clung to him, feeling like she was holding on for dear life to the last thing she could grasp of Oliver’s - his physical being. It was like a thread whipping in the wind, and she couldn’t let him go, she wouldn’t.

And if he was going to stampede through her to get to his mission, then… then he would have to.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do when she kissed him as hard as she did, but it wasn’t… nothing.

Oliver did nothing. He just stood there, not moving. Not fighting. Just… frozen.

A sob tore from her lips again, tears leaking down her cheeks as Felicity pulled back enough to look into his eyes.

They were lifeless.

“Oliver, please, come back to me,” she whispered. She shook him, but he just looked at her. “Oliver!”

“Oliver is dead,” he said and Felicity gasped, letting go of him abruptly, his words slicing through her. He just stood there, not moving, his eyes on her like she was uninteresting prey, and a violent fervor grew in her chest, filling her ears with white noise, making every inch of her feel hot…

Felicity slapped him.

A jolt of pain rocked through her hand, his hard stubble grating across her palm, the blow of his hard face making her cry out in pain and shock at what she was doing, and Oliver’s face rocketed to the side.

He paused, his eyes closed, before his nostrils flared with a deep, angry breath and when he looked at her again, the fear she’d felt a moment ago, when he’d demanded she move, looking at her like he was more than fine using an arrow to remove her from his path, swept through her.

“You will pay for that,” he said softly.

Felicity didn’t have a prayer. She took a step back, but he was faster, so much faster, and he was on her in an instant, one hand gripping her upper arm, the other wrapping around her neck.

Felicity gasped, immediately clawing at his hand that rapidly started squeezing. She barely choked out his name, digging her nails into his hand, trying to pry his fingers away but they were cold strength wrapped around her throat, pressing into her windpipe.

Felicity would have laughed at the sheer irony of the situation. The love of her life had his hand wrapped around her throat in a fierce chokehold, the man she was more than willing to give her life to save… but not like this. She didn’t want to give her life to Al Sah-him, she wanted to give it to Oliver…

His fingers flexed against her throat, coaxing the last breaths out of her.

Black spots mixed with bright sparks danced across her vision as her lungs screamed inside her for air, but her eyes never left his.

The same _something_ she had seen earlier flickered in his eyes, and for a tiny second, his grip faltered… before it tightened again.

But it was enough, and Felicity dug into a reservoir of strength, fueled one hundred percent by Oliver’s love for her.

Instead of trying to pull herself free, Felicity scrabbled for a hold on his League wear and pulled herself close to him. She clawed at the back of his neck, pulling him close and his brow furrowed in confusion as she pressed her forehead to his, their air mingling for a precious moment, and whispered, “Come back to me, Oliver.

“Please…”

The blackness around her vision started closing in as his fingers tightened a fraction more… and then he whimpered.

“Come home.”

“No,” he whispered, his fingers tightening even further and then he wrenched himself away from her, shouting, “No!”

Felicity dropped to the ground in a boneless heap, her knees slamming into the ground as she fell forward into the gravel. She inhaled quickly, inhaling air and dust in equal parts, sending her into a violent coughing fit that made her lungs feel like they were made of sandpaper. Her hands flew to her neck; the skin was mottled and hot, rough, and so tender she winced.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she laid on the ground, the world gaining equilibrium again. She wasn’t sure if Oliver was still there, where he had gone, what was happening… before she opened her eyes.

Her glasses had fallen off somewhere, but she could see well enough that Oliver was still there. He had retreated to the other side of the building and was crouched against the sidewall, his head buried in his hands.

“Oliver?” she said, but her voice was gone. A dry croak was all that was left behind, her vocal cords fighting every inch of noise she made. She grunted, pushing herself up, wincing as parts of her ached that she didn’t remember getting hurt.

She was going to be a giant bruise tomorrow... if she saw the next day.

Which… she hadn’t thought she would for a second there…

It was a thought that she would have to deal with later.

Because now… she was still _there_.

And so was he.

He hadn’t left.

Felicity pushed herself to her feet, the world spinning dangerously before it abruptly righted itself, making her stumble, but she didn’t fall. Her jacket was torn, and her bare legs were scratched and raw from the ground, her feet aching with small cuts…

Oliver didn’t move as she wearily made her way towards him.

He didn’t move when she paused, staring at him tentatively, before slowly inching towards him.

He didn’t move when she finally lowered herself to her knees… and reached out to touch his arm with a hand shaking from exhaustion, fear and sadness…

Oliver jerked away when her fingers grazed him, making her jump.

“Don’t,” he whispered harshly, pushing himself back against the wall, but the sound of his voice… Felicity took a shaky breath, tears blurring her vision…

When he was Al Sah-him, he spoke with a distinct rasp in his voice, lower, disconnected… but this…

This was Oliver.

“Oliver,” she croaked, and he pushed back, shaking his head. Felicity’s fingers trembled as she tried to touch his face - his face was wet with tears, twisted in agony - but he shoved her hands out of the air.

“Don’t. Touch,” he gritted out, followed by a gut-wrenching sob. Felicity pinched her lips, pausing, but then he bowed his head… and she couldn’t stop herself. She cupped his face, not letting him pull away from her. Her thumbs caught his tears, and his jaw clenched. “Stop.”

“No,” Felicity said and Oliver leveled her with a hard, angry glare, his eyes red with tears and pain.

“Get away from me!” he growled, but she just shook her head, whispering, “No,” over and over again.

A horrible, chest-rending sound ripped from his throat, before Oliver grabbed her, his hands crushing, his fingers digging into her arms so hard her muscles screamed with pain, and he slammed his lips against hers.

The kiss was bruising, and Felicity cried out as he ravaged her lips.

She instinctively tried to push him back, but he held her tighter, closer. Felicity could barely gasp for air as he fell back against the wall, his boots sliding in the gravel, and he yanked her with him, forcing her legs open so she was straddling him. His arms were bands of steel around her, holding her so close she couldn’t breathe.

His lips were unrelenting, and he slid one hand down to her skirt, the other finding the back of her neck to hold her in place.

When his hand shoved up under her skirt, Felicity shoved on his chest with enough force to break away from him, but his hand didn’t stop.

“Oliver,” she cried, and he used the grip on the back of her neck to pull her towards him again, angling her head up so his lips found her neck, pressing painfully against the wounded flesh, as his fingers found her panties. “Oliver, stop! Oliver!”

For an incredibly long couple of seconds… he didn’t stop.

A cold dread slid through her, making her body feel like ice, as he shoved her panties aside, his fingers diving in. Felicity cried out when he touched her roughly, something unfamiliar washing through her when she felt her body responding. He tightened his hold on her in response, digging his face harder into her throat, his hand slipping away enough to unbuckle his pants.

Felicity froze when she felt his hard erection pressing against her.

“Oliver, no!” 

He stopped.

Pain bit at her neck where he’d choked her earlier, where he’d been nipping at her, where his beard had rubbed, where his lips had sucked. She felt like every inch of her was _raw_ from him, from the anticipation, the pain, the dread… 

But he’d stopped.

“Oliver,” she whispered again, barely able to breathe through the hammering in her chest. She released her death hold on his jacket, letting her hands slide up his neck when he let out a tiny sob.

He inhaled quickly, sounding like his insides were being ripped from him, and he twisted his hands away from her.

“Get away from me,” he whispered brokenly, and Felicity almost did.

She knew, deep inside, that nothing was going to be okay for a very long time, but… but she couldn’t.

_She couldn’t._

She couldn’t leave him.

“Get off me,” he repeated, in the same dying tone, and Felicity shook her head. “ _Now_.” 

“No,” Felicity whispered in reply.

“Felicity!”

“No,” Felicity replied just as harshly, ignoring the shiver that slipped down her back at the sound of her name on his lips again.

He’d said her name.

Oliver.

Felicity repeated the mantra in her head as she slowly slid her hand between them and gripped his thick member. He hissed her name like it was a curse, shoving his hand between them to stop her, but she bit out, “Stop, Oliver.”

And he did.

He froze.

The sensation that something was possessing her was back as Felicity whispered, “Move my panties.”

He didn’t move. If it was possible, he froze even more.

The violence from a second ago was gone, but the need was still there. She knew what he had been doing, she understood the driving need in him, because she felt it too… but not like that.

No… it had to be like this.

_Like this…_

“Oliver,” she said quietly, every word hurting her throat. She tightened her grip on him to the point of pain, and he whimpered again as she said, “Move them.”

It was a long moment before he responded, but then he was moving, and she felt his trembling fingers against her inner thigh as he gripped her damp panties and pulled them aside. 

Felicity’s entire body was alit with pain and aches, but she still managed to grip his shoulder, lifting herself. She positioned him at her entrance and he slid home.

Neither of them made a single sound as she settled on top of him, as he slid in deeper. She was wet, for reasons she didn’t want to think about, and he slid in easily, although nothing about this felt easy in the least. Oliver was frozen, his jaw clenched, his hands in tight fists, and Felicity gripped his shoulders, using him to help lift herself up and thrust back down on him.

He let out a tiny sound of surrender, his head falling back against the wall with a dull thud, and Felicity immediately pushed her hand between him and the concrete, pulling him into her embrace, moving in jerky, uneven thrusts on top of him.

Oliver shook his head, and she felt one of his tears slip down to her chest, burning like acid.

“Felicity, please,” he whispered, his tone pleading with her to stop, but his hands suddenly gripped her hips tightly, and she shushed him, pulling him in closer.

“Come home to me, Oliver,” she said softly, pressing her lips against his temple. “Come home to me.”

Another sob tore out of him as she made love to him against the wall, cold wind whipping around them, dust rising to coat them, the gravel digging in.

They moved against each other; it was both loving and painful, easy, gentle, and hard.

It was a reminder.

It was a release.

It was the only way she knew how to dig in deep enough, to bring him out, to banish Al Sah-him…

It was… everything and nothing at the same time.

It was opening a door while closing another.

It was…

Her sobs mixed in with his as they made love to each other, as they reminded each other of their love for each other, as they reminded each other who they were…

It wasn’t long before Oliver’s grip suddenly tightened on her hips. His moan came out in cracked gasps as he lifted her, pulling her down harder against him until he stiffened, spilling into her.

The only thing Felicity remembered for a long time after that was the warmth of Oliver’s tears soaking into her shoulder as he cried against her, his warm breath against her neck, and his arms holding her.

Things weren’t going to be okay for a while, and things weren’t going to be the same…

But Oliver was home.

He was home.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other prompts:
> 
>  
> 
> “prompt: felicity would maybe laugh at the sheer irony of the situation she was in. but being held in a fierce chokehold by the man she loves was probably not the best time to ponder how much of bitch life could be. his finger flexed against her throat, coaxing her last breaths out of her. with one last attempt she closed the distance between them, forehead to forehead, breath to breath- his look of surprise buying her precious seconds to whisper in a soft rasp'come back to me oliver. come home'”
> 
> “Could you do a prompt where Felicity finds Oliver when he is under control of Ras. Just like in the promo.”
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117719140799/prompt-felicity-banging-the-al-sahim-out-of)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	18. Drabble: Long Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: Anonymous asked - Felicity we're going to be late

**"Felicity, we're going to be late."**

“I know you’re only saying that, Oliver,” Felicity said, wiping water out of her face. “I know what time it was when I got in here.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said from outside the shower. He tapped his fingers on the glass door, and Felicity cocked her head, giving him a look even though he couldn’t see her through the steam. “And that was twenty minutes ago.”

“Beauty takes time,” she replied, dipping her head back into the stream of water. “I have to wash my hair, I have to condition, and then I have to exfoliate, and shave, and-”

“If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming in there.”

“You promise?” she asked and his muted groan made her chuckle.

“That’s not nice,” he said, his voice rough. Oliver tapped on the door again with more force before leaving the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, “You’re the one that said we couldn’t be late.”

“I’m almost done.”

Felicity heard his sarcastic harrumph and she shook her head, smiling. Such a grumpy cat. It was his charity dinner, one he had organized as a sign of good faith to the new investors for the newly created Queen Incorporated. It was all his doing, from beginning to end, and _he_ was the one who didn’t want to go. All day he’d been trying to put it off, from coming up with a random drive down the coast to keeping her preoccupied in bed a bit too long, even after they’d had their… afternoon exercise.

He was nervous. She couldn’t blame him, it was nerve-wracking to suddenly have his family company back, sullied as it was, only to spend an entire year reshaping it into a completely new business. It was amazing, what he’d accomplished, not just in business, but in his personal life as well…

It was hard to think that this time a year and a half go, they’d all been in Nanda Parbat. Almost to the day they’d been standing in the ghost town that the old Ra’s Al Ghul had destroyed as a sign of good faith to his new legacy, led there by false clues, when the League - led by Al Sah-him - had dropped in.

_“Surrender or die.”_

At least the memory didn’t make her shudder anymore.

Because now here they were, grumpy Oliver Queen wandering around in their home with butterflies all aflutter in his stomach because he was trying to show a bunch of random, rich dudes that he was really serious this time. Okay, so he might have reason to be nervous, although really she should be the one that was nervous. Once the company was established, he’d stepped down, taking on a board position, and as majority shareholder, he’d had stupidly appointed her as CEO. Which, while not the smartest move politically, was the smartest thing he’d ever done, because if she had to say herself, she was doing a fine job.

It helped having _him_ to come home to every night.

Felicity sighed, lifting her hair off her neck, letting the hot water attack her muscles. She was actually incredibly relaxed, considering the long night ahead of them, and her thoughts drifted to what they’d been doing before she’d deemed it shower time…

Felicity bit her lip, the water making her skin more sensitive as she imagined it was his hands instead, drifting down her neck, down her back… her sides, her hips…

Her body tightened at the memory of him sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes dark and hooded with need; he’d gently grabbed her hand, pulling her to him before urging her to climb onto him, straddling him.

She’d only been wearing a t-shirt and her panties, and his hard fingers had found her ass and squeezed, pulling her closer, forcing her sex to rub right against his heavy bulge…

He’d been so hard for her, and he’d rubbed her against himself, using his grip on her ass to move her up and down. And then he’d gripped her even harder and forced her up to her knees so her chest was at his face and his hot mouth had found one of her nipples through her shirt…

Felicity’s eyes snapped open, stopping her hand where it’d been drifting across her stomach, heading south. She glanced down. Her skin was pink from the hot water, her chest heaving, her nipples growing hard. Felicity pressed her thighs together and inhaled quickly when her sex throbbed in response.

She could already feel how slick she was at the memory of her fiancee’s touch…

Licking her lips, Felicity glanced at the open door… 

They had time.

Felicity turned and unhooked the shower head, switching the tiny knob on the side to the pulsation setting.

The sound vibrations changed, and she shifted, lifting her leg, resting her foot on the soap dispenser. She leaned her forehead against the wall and slipped the shower head between her legs.

The heavy jets of water immediately hit her tender flesh and she gasped, her hips jerking away from the force, her channel clenching with need. Pressing her forehead harder into the wall, Felicity moved it away, biting her lip, before shifting it lower. The water hit her inner thigh before she turned it back on herself. She slowly moved it up, letting the water hit her puffy lips, slipping past them, teasing her entrance. She felt her channel clenching again, aching for something to fill her…

“Oliver,” she whispered, barely making a sound, imagining _him_ filling her as she slowly moved the thick jets of water up.

She gasped louder when one of them hit her clit, making her hips jerked again from the shock of sensation.

Keeping it on the outskirts of the hypersensitive nubbin, the entire area still slightly sore from the hours they’d spend in bed that day, Felicity rotated her hips, her mind jumping back to the feeling of Oliver’s mouth sucking on her breast through her shirt.

His hands had kneaded her ass, massaging it, before one of them slipped down, between her legs from behind.

Felicity moaned, remembering his finger sliding through her wetness, how he’d pressed it inside her, making her squirm, before pulling out and dragging it back up, teasing her tiny puckered hole…

Her hips moved faster against the water stream, her mind filled with Oliver and how he’d touched her.

A cool brush of air slid up her back, making goosebumps erupt over her bare skin as she felt his lips on her neck when he’d kissed her, her nipples tingling with desire when they’d pressed against him, her insides aching with need for him as he’d teased her.

Felicity shifted the shower head, her fingers holding it so hard they were bloodless, moving the heavy stream onto her clit. She gave a soft cry, pressing her face harder against the wall, her hips moving faster. She chased her release, the water slicing over her, pelting her entire sex.

She moved the shower head closer, the pressure becoming harder, and her insides starting coiling with tension as her orgasm built inside, her mind still in the bedroom, still with Oliver, feeling him thrusting into her with so much force the bed shook…

“Oliver,” she whimpered. “Oliver, Oliver…”

“I’m here,” he said from behind her and Felicity gasped, nearly dropping the shower head as Oliver - a very, very naked and intense-looking Oliver - slid the shower door shut behind him, stepping in with her.

“Oliver, what are you-” she started, turning to face him, her mind fogged with pleasure, but he was single-minded.

Felicity gasped when his hot skin rubbed against hers, her words effectively dying on her lips. He turned her around again, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Oliver anchored her to him with his left arm, his right hand immediately sliding between her legs. His fingers grazed her engorged clit and Felicity cried out, her head falling back against his shoulder. Oliver hiked her closer, holding the brunt of her weight as he pitched forward, slipping three fingers inside her.

“Oh god,” Felicity cried, her walls clenching around the sudden intrusion. There was hardly anything to stop him, she was so wet, and she moaned his name loudly as he pulled his fingers out and thrust back into her.

Oliver pushed his face into her, his stubble rubbing a raw line along her shoulder and up the column of her neck until his lips pressed to her ear, whispering, “Put the shower head back on yourself.”

She was mindless, her hips moving to meet his thrusting fingers, nearly everything inside her focused on the growing pleasure between her legs.

“Felicity,” he said, dragging her name out in a growl, his teeth nipping at her ear and she vaguely remembered him saying… something. “Put it back on your clit, Felicity.”

A surge of need shot through her at his words, and she choked out a gasp, the need morphing quickly into white hot pleasure as he said again, “On your clit, baby, now.”

Felicity moved, letting him hold her as her shaky hands - how she was still holding the damn thing anyway was beyond her - maneuvered the shower head back between her legs, holding it to the side of his thrusting fingers.

Oliver ducked down, his foot pushing her legs apart, spreading her open just as the water her clit and Felicity let out a short yelp, her back bowing.

Oliver’s hand moved faster.

His fingers felt so big, spreading her open, the water slicing across her clit, sliding down to where he thrust into her, sensation on top of sensation on top of sensation, and Felicity sobbed out his name, her nails digging into the metal shower head as her release came on with frightening intensity.

He thrust into her, holding her tighter, her hips grinding wildly against his hand as Felicity hit a peak - suddenly everything was very vivid. She felt _everything_ , from the slippery shower floor, to the harsh heat of Oliver behind her, to his thick cock pressed up between them, urgently rubbing between her ass cheeks, to the water hitting her clit so perfectly, to his fingers filling her…

She was aware of every single thing, and just as quickly, every single part of her started tingling with awareness, with need, with the power of the orgasm building rapidly within her, and then Oliver’s hand moved faster, and Felicity lost all sense of herself.

“Oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop… ohgodohgodohgod,” she babbled, over and over, the words slipping out, the only thing mattering the feeling of Oliver’s fingers inside her. The shower head forgotten, Felicity grabbed onto the arm banded across her waist, her other hand flying out to the glass door for anything to hold on to as his hand moved…

“Oliver, Oliver, I’m… I’m…” Felicity whimpered, her voice echoing against the shower walls. “Oliver!”

Felicity came with a loud keening cry around his fingers, a white sheet of pleasure skating over her eyes.

Oliver didn’t relent, his body rubbing against hers as he rode out her orgasm with her, her walls rippling around his fingers…

Felicity didn’t remember dropping the shower head or when Oliver’s fingers slipped out of her. Her body was liquid as he gently pushed her forward, his hips moving fiercely against her ass. She blindly grappled with the wall until she found the soap dispenser again, and leaned onto it as Oliver hunched down, positioning himself at her soaking wet entrance. She felt the head of his erection slipping against her before he thrust in.

“Aaahhh,” Felicity cried, the force of it driving her against the wall, and he gripped her hips _hard_ as he started a punishing rhythm. Her walls were still pulsating from her orgasm, sucking him in deeper, and she cried out with each thrust, her skin so alive with the sensitivity that she felt another orgasm starting to grow.

It was almost too much and Felicity babbled as much, the words barely making sense as he thrust into her, each one growing more powerful. His grunts mixed in with her cries, and her nails started to hurt from holding onto the wall fixture so hard, his hold on her hips yanking her up so she was forced onto her toes.

She didn’t feel him move until it was too late, but somehow he had the shower head in hand, and then he draped himself over her, his hips moving rapidly, wet skin slapping skin and he moved the streaming water right against her clit.

Felicity came instantly, her pleasured cries turning into soundless gasps as the harsh water pushed her over, and Oliver growled her name, thrusting harder until he joined her with a loud cry of his own, his furious thrusts uneven as he filled her…

Felicity’s legs gave out from under her, and Oliver’s arm barely came out in enough time to brace them both against the shower wall, his hold on her waist the only thing stopping her from dropping.

He slipped out of her, a tiny moan escaping his throat at the loss of connection, before he gently pulled her back up, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Felicity was breathless, sparks dancing across her eyes, trying to catch her breath, every inch of her on fire and throbbing from the force of her orgasms.

Oliver swept a hand up, over her breasts, and a pitiful cry left her as he wrapped an around around her chest, nuzzling her neck.

“We’re definitely going to be late now,” he said, sounding like he really didn’t care, and Felicity smiled, her voice trembling as she said, “No. It actually doesn’t start until eight.”

Oliver froze behind her. “You changed the time?”

“No,” Felicity replied, turning her head towards him, leaning back enough so her lips grazed his. “I just let you think it was at seven.”

She kissed him, cutting off his response, and she shivered when she felt his half-hard cock, still wet with both of them, rubbing against her.

“And now we have time for another shower.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117833911804/felicity-were-going-to-be-late)
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	19. Drabble: Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Drabble Prompt: falconcranelove - An Al Sah-him fic inspired by the song Animals by Maroon 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from falconcranelove based on the song “Animals” by Maroon 5 for Felicity and Al Sah-him (which involved thoughts regarding the struggle of Oliver/Al Sah-him being similar to Angel/Angelus, which led to me writing my version of a dark, animalistic Al Sah-him).
> 
> A/N: This is based after 3x21. I’m of the camp that Oliver is much more aware of what he’s doing as Al Sah-him than he is letting on - he’s super aware, ya’ll, it’s all part of the plan - but for the sake of this story, he’s still very much under a strong hallucinogen (because you can’t unmake someone like Oliver Queen in the blink of an eye without epic amounts of drugs).
> 
> Also, Oliver and the LOA don’t leave Starling right away after Nyssa is acquired - the jet takes time to fuel and stuff…

_Baby, I’m preying on you tonight_  
Hunt you down eat you alive  
Just like animals, animals, like animals-mals  
Maybe you think that you can hide  
I can smell your scent from miles  
Just like animals, animals, like animals-mals  
Baby, I’m 

_So what you trying to do to me_  
It’s like we can’t stop we’re enemies  
But we get along when I’m inside you  
You’re like a drug that’s killing me  
I cut you out entirely  
But I get so high when I’m inside you 

*

She wasn’t sure how it happened.

One second she was unlocking her front door, exhaustion lining her every movement; her eyes hurt from crying, her face dry and swollen from the tears she’d shed sitting in the rubble of the life she, John and Oliver had built around the Arrow…

And then the next she was frozen, her raw eyes widening when she saw the dark shadow standing in her living room, his back to her, the open blinds cutting him up in harsh horizontal lines of light, casting the rest of him in darkness.

The hairs on the back of her neck had risen in awareness as he shifted, his head turning slightly, acknowledging her presence, almost like a panther letting its prey know it knew it was there… and that if it wanted to run, now was the time.

But she hadn’t run.

Instead, Felicity had dropped her keys and her purse, a burning anger lighting up her chest as the door swung shut behind her, and she’d been moving before she knew what she was doing.

Fury had thrummed through her… anger at the situation, at the reality they were living, at the fact that Oliver hadn’t just given up his life, he’d given up so much more - he’d given up his _self_ \- and anger that he had come here, that he had used his team, _his family_ , to get to Nyssa…

Fury that he was there, of all places, that he had come to her… and that he was still not Oliver.

He was stark and cold; emotionlessly still where he stood, barely reacting to her presence, and that was just too much. She’d already grieved, for him, for them; she’d cried all the tears she had inside her, mourning everything that had been ripped from her, everything that continued to be ripped from her, and now the sight of him - of the man he had become - pushed her over the edge.

Felicity wasn’t sure what she had been about to do as she approached him, if she’d raised her hand to strike him, or to claw at him, or to shake him… but Oliver didn’t give her a chance to do any of it.

A harsh, dry sob left her lips as he turned, catching her hand in midair, pulling her into a tight, immobilizing hold against his chest, twisting her arm behind her back so her breasts were pressed against him, her back bowed. His eyes were cold and calculated as he assessed her, and his grip on her arm tightened, pushing her breasts further against him, his hold making her cry out in pain.

His eyes - eyes that had lightened with surprise when she finally told him her true feelings, eyes that had darkened with a blaze of passion that nearly burned her alive when he gave into her - _into them_ \- eyes that had brimmed with so much emotion her chest had felt too tight from the gravity of it as he made love to each her… eyes that were now a cold, icy blue, dull and glazed… _determined_.

Felicity’s stomach clenched as she shuddered at the sight, and she gasped when his pupils dilated rapidly in response.

He wasn’t there as Oliver Queen.

He wasn’t there as Al Sah-him.

He was there, responding to some basic instinctual call from deep inside him, the same call she’d felt the instant she saw him on the camera feed, when she’d realized that Oliver wasn’t Oliver anymore… The need to go to him, to remind him, to be with the man she loved, it had been overwhelming, and only contained by the fact that he wasn’t there for her.

But now… now he was.

All the focused determination she’d seen when his goal had been collecting Nyssa was now fixated on her, and she wanted to run away from the intensity. She wanted to yell at him, she wanted to remind him that he’d destroyed so many carefully drawn lines that night, that he’d swept in without a single care and hurt those who loved him the most…

She wanted to be human, she wanted to remind him what it was like to be human, but the same call that was driving him fluttered back to life inside her in response to his, and all rational thoughts evaporated as she narrowed her eyes at him, her breathing growing heavy, her heart racing as her body recognized its other half.

He recognized her submission instantly.

With an imperceptible growl, Oliver gripped the back of her head, pulling her to him as he dove in, his lips covering hers. It was nothing like Nanda Parbat, nothing loving or tender; this was harsh and cold, emotionless, based only on a deeply-driven physical need that she suddenly felt pressing against her lower stomach.

It was now that Felicity pulled away, shoved him back, said _no_ …

But she didn’t, because the same need beat inside her like a living thing.

Felicity opened her mouth to his, and his tongue swept in, ravaging her, claiming her and she returned it just as hard, with so much force she drove him back, his hold on her arm slipping. She ignored the twinge in her shoulder, the sharp pain cascading down her arm, and wrapped it around his neck, pulling herself up against him.

Her face was raw from all her tears, from wiping her face over and over, and his stubble scraped across the sensitive skin like acid. She gave a pained moan, angling her head away from the pain while angling herself closer to him, the two going hand-in-hand in a morbid dance of need.

Felicity barely felt him pulling at her shirt before he ripped it down the center, making her cry out in shock. She didn’t even know they’d been moving until he shoved her back onto her couch and she landed with a hard bounce, her head hitting the back of it.

He didn’t give her a moment’s reprieve as he bent over her, his mouth finding hers again.

His hands yanking the cups of her bra down, catching her peaked nipples painfully as she fumbled with the heavy folds of his clothes; she needed to feel him against her, if just for a moment, but Oliver reared back, knocking her hands out of the way.

Felicity moved to sit up, to follow him, but he pushed her back again, his hands sliding down her naked abdomen to her pants where he ripped the button and zipper open. He pulled them off, the material razing her skin, and then her panties. Felicity was vaguely aware that one of her shoes had fallen off, the other heel staying on, but then none of it mattered as he gripped her hips, tossing one of her legs over his shoulder as he pushed her other leg up to her chest, completely baring every inch of her to his unfocused gaze.

There was nothing soft about him right now, and Felicity didn’t want him to be soft.

His aggression matched hers equally as one of her hands slid down to his shoulder, gripping the strap to his quiver, while the other gripped his head, her nails scratching at his scalp painfully.

He leaned over her, inhaling her scent deeply, and a surge of need whipped through her so quick and hard it left her breathless.

Felicity shuddered, her legs spread open, her clothes in tatters around them, his hard, glazed eyes on her… before he dipped down to her throbbing sex.

His tongue immediately sought out her clit, his chin pressing painfully against her already-wet entrance as he shoved his face hard against her. Felicity’s back bowed, harsh pleasure skating through her pelvis, fanning out in heated waves that were built on agony as much as pleasure.

She squeezed her eyes shut, arching against him while trying to get away at the same time, wanting more but wanting him to stop because it was too much, too hard… Oliver didn’t give her a choice. He ate her out, his teeth nipping at her tender flesh, insatiable in his lust for her taste.

One hand gripped her hip as the other pushed knee closer to her chest. His hand slipped across her leg, up over her chest, his fingers finding her neck.

He pinned her to the couch, his mouth relentless, and Felicity cried out as the red hot pleasure built rapidly. She dipped her chin down, glancing down at him to find his eyes on her already and she shuddered violently at the pure animal lust on his face.

He wasn’t Oliver, but he wasn’t Al Sah-him, _she knew that_. This was something else, something that had stripped him of his usual façade, leaving behind a startling purity in him. A voice in the back of her mind whispered, _“Drugged,”_ but just as quickly it was gone as his hand slipped up her jaw, his fingers holding her chin so their eyes stayed on each other.

Her pleasure hiked in heavy waves, and she opened her mouth in a silent pant, her body forgetting how to get oxygen for itself as everything inside her focused on his mouth on her. His index finger slipped into her mouth, holding her still as his tongue swirled around her clit, his chin digging against her sex.

Oliver’s teeth slipped against her clit, and she jerked up against him, and he did it again, his tongue never stopping, pushing her over the edge.

Felicity came, her hips bucking against his face, but he pulled away almost instantly, the sharp intensity of her release falling short. She felt robbed for a wild split second, like she hadn’t gotten everything she needed, and she whined her frustrated anger as the sound of Oliver’s pants coming undone filled the air beside her gasps for air.

She opened her eyes in time to see him gripping his hard cock, his face stuck in stone as he stared at her open sex, his hand gripping her hip to thrust into her.

The same rage she’d felt when she’d come home to him invading her space - after everything he’d already done that night - filled her, and Felicity sat up, shoving him back. A surprised grunt slipped from his lips as he fell backwards, and Felicity followed, pushing him until he was on his back on the floor, and she climbed over him, straddling him, reaching between them to grip his thick erection. She lifted herself, and thrust down, taking all of him inside her.

Felicity yelped as he stretched her, her nether lips sensitive from his stubble, her clit still trembling from his tongue, and she fell on top him, her lips finding his in a wet, uneven kiss. He tasted like her, like him, like both of them, and the thought sent her into overdrive, into pure instinct as it was her turn to ravage him, to take him, to show him the need wasn’t his alone.

Oliver’s hand found the back of her head, the other her hip, and she thrust against him, feeling the orgasm he’d pulled away from her starting to build again.

He kissed her so hard she knew her lips would be bruised, and she returned it just as harshly, biting at his lips, his tongue, anything she could get to. He fisted her hair, pulling on it, and the sharp pain forced her away from his lips to gasp and Oliver took advantage of it, rolling them quickly, landing on top of her. He immediately braced himself as he pulled one of her legs up, opening her further, thrusting into her with wild abandon.

The pleasure was excruciating, his thrusts so hard she felt them in her bones.

Felicity’s cries fill the room, echoing his unhinged grunts as he pinned her to the ground, pounding into her.

She didn’t like it. It was a wild thought that slipped through her head, one that had her wrapping her arms around him, flipping him in a move that he himself had shown her.

Oliver’s face was pure shock as she landed on top, her hand finding his throat, pinning him to the ground this time as she rode him. He surged deeper into her, and she cried out, throwing her head back as she ground down against his pubic bone with each thrust.

But Oliver was stronger.

He yanked her down, rolling them over again, and the agonizing pleasure inside her came to a head.

Felicity cried out, her nails digging into him, and he angled his hips perfectly, hitting the sensitive bundle inside her, and she came with a violent yell, the orgasm shooting through her like a literal firecracker under her skin.

The pain was mixed in with the pleasure so acutely that her world went dark for a long second, pleasure-driven numbness overwhelming her.

His thrusts grew even harder, his moans erratic as he chased his pleasure in her before he finally joined her, arching his back with one final ferocious thrust, his animalistic growl echoing in the room as he came, finding his deepest need sated deep inside her…

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117884464979/animals-post-3x21-olicity-explicit)
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	20. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3x22 spec fic where Oliver finds Felicity before the wedding.
> 
> Smut Drabble Prompt: cityofolicity asked - Right before the wedding, Oliver takes Felicity aside and reveals to her that he has been faking Al Sah-him all along. Cue desperate, angsty smut and heartbreaking goodbyes. Happy writing, Bre!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have a different idea of how things will go in 3x22 than what I wrote here. Unfortunately, my spec doesn’t fit with this fic.
> 
> Holly mentioned this idea the other day, and it was literally after reading [Sleeping With the Enemy by mersayseh](http://mersayseh.tumblr.com/post/117981951324/1k-followers-celebration-fic) (which ya’ll should read, if you haven’t already) - here’s my angsty-as-hell version where Felicity doesn’t know Oliver is faking Al Sah-him:

When they’d strategized about coming back to Nanda Parbat to stop the alpha/omega death juice plan that was apparently in motion - that Oliver himself was supposed to carry out, according to a tiny but terrifyingly adept woman named Tatsu - they’d made contingency plans, like they always did; from the small stuff (what if they ran out of bullets for this gun, or what if someone forgot to bring an extra pair of socks) to the big stuff (the paperwork for new identities stashed in various places in Central City courtesy of Barry, or what would happen if one of them died).

Contingency plans were smart, and it ensured that everyone was on the same page.

Except Felicity had never planned on being yanked out of the cell where Oliver - no, not Oliver, Al Sah-him, as her nightmares had ardently reminded her over and over again - had left them.

The League member had pulled her out by the shackles, breaking Laurel’s nose and nearly snapping Ray’s arm clean off in the process, and into…

A bathroom.

Felicity barely had a second to look around when the assassin shoved her into the large cavernous room. Her foot caught on the ornate rug decorating the center and she went down, landing painfully, her wrists jamming against the iron shackles.

“Bathe,” the assassin said as he followed her silently, pushing her onto her back. He had a key out and the shackles were off before she could comprehend anything past the biting pain in her wrists as the single word finally resonated in her head.

“What?” she asked.

“Bathe,” he repeated and Felicity stared at him uncomprehendingly. “For the ceremony.”

Felicity scoffed, rolling to her feet with a pained wince when she put weight on her wrist. Cradling it to her chest, she said, “You’ve got another thing coming if you honestly think I’m going to _bathe_ here.”

“Your presence has been requested at the ceremony. You will prepare for it, as it pleases Ra’s Al Ghul.”

“Oh, so they make you shower before they brutally kill you these days, huh?” Felicity asked. “That’s really nice and all, but I’m pretty sure he can handle me covered in dirt and sweat like a proper murderous fiend, thank you very much.”

“You have been offered the courtesy of bathing yourself, with privacy,” the assassin said, his voice even, and his words had Felicity’s throat tightening at their implication. “I have been ordered to do it for you if you resist.”

A heavy stone dropped in her chest, and Felicity took an instinctive step away from him, cradling her arms closer to her chest protectively.

He was unfazed as he nodded to a pile of clothes sitting on an ottoman.

“Dress,” he said, his tone leaving zero room for argument, and Felicity knew if she didn’t do exactly as he was telling her to, he would make very good on his orders. He turned to leave. “I will be back to escort you to the ceremony.”

“What ceremony?”

“The Ascension of Ra’s Al Ghul,” the assassin replied before silently slipping out and shutting the door behind him in a whisper.

“Oh,” Felicity said softly.

Oliver. The ascension of Oliver to…

Felicity blinked away the burn of tears, biting her tongue as hard as she could to stop them from welling. She looked around, taking in the stone walls, the silk that seemed to be every-freaking-where in this place, the candles flickering on every surface, the amenities… There was a large tub in one corner, and an open space with actual silk drapes through which she saw a shower head. An actual shower head, in the rock.

“Maybe that’s how they spend their weekends,” Felicity whispered. She stayed rooted in place, happy to let her mind imagine members of the League of Assassins installing shower heads instead of… 

Killing.

Brainwashing.

Harvesting poisonous herbs that were good for both.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before someone banged on the door.

Felicity jumped, her heart shooting a surge of adrenaline through her veins as she spun to face the door, imagining the same man coming in and doing exactly as he’d threatened… Oliver wasn’t here to stop anyone this time, and she knew her cries would fall on very deaf ears…

The door remained closed.

Felicity closed her eyes, a single tear sliding down her cheek, before she gritted her teeth, and yanked her jacket off. The rest of her clothes quickly followed and she shivered in the chilly air, the flickering flames all around her adding no warmth to the space.

She moved quickly to the shower, slipping behind the silk sheet. The shower was simple, and soon enough she stood under an onslaught of hot water. She didn’t bother reaching for the soap, or the shimmery liquid sitting in an open dish that smelled like decrepit lavender.

Instead she let the sound of the shower cover her quiet sobs, the water wash away her tears, the warmth keep her chills at bay.

What kind of twisted mess was this, forcing her to stand by and watch this… watch the man she loved, the man she’d given everything to, sign away his soul forever…

He’d already buried Oliver Queen deep, so deep he was barely a glimmer anymore, but becoming Ra’s Al Ghul would effectively sever him completely, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell of who he had once been…

Felicity didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right behind her.

With a gasp, she swung around blindly, blinking water from her eyes as she shoved the large shape away from her. Her mouth was open to scream, her body already moving to dart out of the curtain when the man grabbed her, his arms wrapping around her from behind, yanking her back in, a hand covering her mouth.

“Felicity, it’s me,” a harsh voice whispered in her ear before she could make a sound. “It’s me, it’s me.”

She froze at the sound of _his_ voice.

Felicity’s chest heaved with heavy breaths against his hand, her body trembling with residual fear and shock and… and… A sob tore from her chest before she clamped down on it, not letting more out. She didn’t move or say anything as Oliver held her, his naked chest pressed to her back, his arms wrapped around her. He pressed his face painfully against the side of her head, nuzzling her…

She wondered if he felt her tears on his hand, or if he thought they were just water.

“Oliver?” she whispered against his fingers and he let his hand drop, his head falling forward. He pressed his face into her neck, hard, and she shivered, her trembling growing worse. “Oliver?”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, his voice so soft she barely heard it over the rush of water, his voice was heavy, guarded, pushing her away, but his hands…

Felicity shivered again as his arms around her tightened, his hands roaming, like they had… like they had that night.

They skated over her, over her stomach, her hips, her breasts. They moved aimlessly, touching everything but nothing at the same time; he touched her blindly, desperately, without purpose other than to _feel her_.

Felicity shuddered at the overwhelming sensation, the exhaustion from not sleeping, from worrying about Oliver, about Thea, about _everything_ catching up with her… for a split second it was too much, and she let herself fall against him, let herself just _feel_ him.

She didn’t stop to question why this was happening, or _who_ he was…

She just felt the arms of the man she loved wrapping around her and for a second, that was enough…

Felicity leaned back, pressing against him as hard as he was, digging her fingers into his bare arms where they were wrapped around her. She felt his wet pants, the water still cascading over them, the bare skin of his chest so hot it felt like it was scorching her…

She turned her face towards his, his short hair soft against her skin, his face still covered in his stubble, the stubble she loved, the stubble she’d felt for a few days after their single night together. 

He took a deep breath, inhaling her… 

He was shaking as bad as she was under the hot water, and he let out an unsteady breath as they just held each other…

Except he’d been the one who looked at her with flat, empty eyes.

He’d been the one who’d ordered them to surrender or die.

He’d been the one who shackled them and shoved them into a dirty cell.

He was the one ascending to Ra’s Al Ghul.

“No,” Felicity whispered, shaking her head.

“Felicity…”

She pulled away from him, but he didn’t let her go, and a violent burst of panic exploded in her chest.

“No!” She spun in his grasp, shoving him away. Her wrist twinged where she’d hurt them on the shackles earlier but she didn’t care as she pushed as hard as she could. “Get away from me!”

His arms slipped just enough for her to slide free and Felicity grabbed at the silk curtain but he was quicker. He yanked her back under the water, spinning them stunningly quickly so her back was shoved against the wall and he bracketed her against it, his hands cradling her face as he hunched over her.

“It’s me, Felicity, please, it’s me,” he said, over and over, pressing his lips to hers but Felicity pushed him away again. “Felicity, stop!”

The ferocity in his tone made her freeze, her lungs working overtime for oxygen, her eyes squeezed shut. She was gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his muscles, her arms strained to push him away, but he held fast, his body nailing her to the wall.

He stroked her face, his fingers running over her cheeks, her nose. His thumbs drifted over her lips as he pleaded, “Please, Felicity, it’s me. Please look at me. Felicity.”

“No,” she said again, shaking her head. “It’s not. You’re not you. You’re not you, you can’t be you…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’ve been… it wasn’t me. That wasn’t me in Starling, it wasn’t me out… there. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you. I could never hurt you, I… Maseo’s been giving me herbs to block the drugs Ra’s has been feeding me, so I can fight back, and I know what he’s planning to do to Starling - what he wants me to do…” He was babbling, almost incoherently, his words becoming more and more desperate, like he knew they had so little time, but he _needed_ to tell her anyway. “And I was okay with all that, I had a… we had a plan, but…” 

Felicity’s eyes slipped open slowly. His face brightened for a second, for a split second, when he saw her, and he pressed a quick kiss to her limp lips as he said, “Oh Felicity, I… there’s… He wants me to marry Nyssa.”

“What?” Felicity rasped, but he didn’t stop.

“And I have to, I have to do it to finish this.” Felicity could only stare at him, shock numbing her. “But then…” Oliver stared at her, his lips trembling with emotion, his breathing becoming more and more shallow as he stroked her face again, like he couldn’t believe she was real; like he was memorizing her. “But then you were here, and…” He closed his eyes. “And I almost didn’t do it. I almost didn’t do it, and that…”

He took a tremulous breath.

Felicity stared at him, her mouth hanging open, unable to… comprehend everything he was throwing at her. It’d been him the entire time; there was no Al Sah-him, he was still Oliver… but the things he’d done, to her, to Thea… to _John_ … and now…

“That’s the ceremony?” Felicity asked, her body falling limp against his. It didn’t matter that she was completely naked, or that he was half-naked, or that they were getting soaked in the shower. None of it mattered because… Felicity suddenly grasped onto him, wrapping her arms around him desperately, the words coming out harsh, “That’s the ceremony I’m being _prepared_ for?”

Oliver didn’t reply. He shook his head minutely before pressing his forehead to hers as tears blurred her vision, one escaping, leaving a scorching trail down her cheek.

“I was so close…” he whispered, the words running together as he continued, “I’m so close to not… Damn it, Felicity, I wish you hadn’t come… I don’t think I can…”

His voice broke and Felicity’s heart broke with it. The weight he was carrying, the pain of it, the horror of it, echoed in his words and they crashed against her in sharp bursts, making more tears flood to the surface.

“Oliver…” she whispered, shaking her head, unable to believe what he was saying, what was happening… 

It was too much - _too much_ \- and… she let go.

She stopped thinking.

Felicity’s hands came up to grasp his trembling face. “Oliver, I love you.”

He inhaled sharply at her words, his eyes flying open, finding hers. She stared up at him, cupping his face, willing him to see everything…

It wasn’t enough, and they both knew that.

They deserved more, they deserved a life together, away from the pain and angst that came with this life he’d chosen… They deserved more than a brief meeting in a shower on enemy turf, where he’d been acting the part of someone cold and emotionless, someone who’d intentionally hurt those he loved, acting the part of a shadow of himself…

Her heart broke all the more as he stared at her and she whispered again, “I love you, Oliver Queen. _I love you_.”

He was frozen, staring at her… and then his lips slanted over hers, capturing her moan. She arched up into him, her hands running around his head to clasp him closer. He pulled her off the wall, kissing her harder as he yanked her into his arms, holding her close, kissing her with everything inside him.

It was desperate and hard, their teeth clashing together, her lips stinging from his nips as she tugged on his, needing _more_ ; it was the kiss of goodbye, the one they’d tried to avoid last time, but now…

Now the impossibility of everything lingered over their heads and there wasn’t time for anything else but these last few moments.

Oliver leaned down, his hands sliding over her ass. He cupped her, making her gasp, and lifted her. Felicity immediately wound her legs around his waist, expecting him to push her up against the wall, but he didn’t.

His lips never left hers as she hung on to him, so reminiscent of their first and only night together that it made Felicity’s chest ache, as he left the shower, left the water running, and stepped towards the ottoman where the clothes had been left for her.

Oliver set her down, breaking the kiss long enough to shove the clothes off and undo his wet pants. Felicity brushed wet hair out of her face as he shoved them off his hips far enough for his hard member to pop free before he was grabbing her again, lifting her into his arms with a grunt, his erection dragging against her skin in such an intimate way that every single sense in her body focused on it.

He hiked her closer, his hands under her thighs, digging into the tender flesh where it met her backside as he sat down, pulling her down with him so she was straddling him. His hard cock slid between them again and she moaned his name against his lips as he wrapped his arms around her. Her hips rotated against him - she was ready, she was so ready for him, like her body had recognized his the second he’d stepped into the shower with her - and he growled under his breath, the vibration echoing against her chest.

Felicity lifted herself up, their lips still connected, and Oliver slid his hand between them, gripping himself, sliding the thick head against her wet entrance and Felicity thrust down, taking him in shallowly.

Oliver moaned desperately, holding her tighter as she took in his entire length, slowly bringing him home…

“Oh god, Felicity, I can’t…” Oliver choked, and Felicity shook her head, lifting her hips and thrusting back down. He moaned again, and Felicity cupped his cheek, feeling a deep-rending crack through her heart, marring her soul.

“Shh,” she whispered, her thumb dragging across his lips. “This is our moment, Oliver. Ours.”

“Ours,” he repeated, his voice cracking again and she nodded in encouragement, her hips thrusting up and down gently. “Ours.”

“Ours,” she said, and then she kissed him.

They made love on the ottoman, wrapped around each other, giving each other everything they thought they had on their one single night. It only told them that this would never be enough - they would never get enough. They would always want more, need more from each other. They needed to show their love, forever, no matter how they did it; getting moments here and there… it would never be enough.

A sob escaped her, her hips moving faster, their tears mingling. His body was hot, so hot underneath hers, like all the unspoken words that had to be said, that should be said, but couldn’t be, because there wasn’t enough time.

There was just this… and it had to be enough.

One hand gripped her hip, the other wrapped around her back, his hand sliding up to cup her neck as they kissed. Felicity’s nails dragged across his neck, over his back, her other hand drifting across his chest between them.

The sounds they each made were soft and desperate, moans quiet enough that it was just for them, only for them.

The hand on her hip slid up her side to capture hers and he tangled their fingers, pulling it down to her sensitive nubbin.

Felicity gasped against his lips, her hips moving faster as he pushed both of their fingers against her clit, turning the gentle, easy pleasure that had been slowly blossoming inside her into a sharp strike that exploded in her pelvis.

Felicity moaned, and he swallowed it, never letting her go.

It didn’t take long for her to reach her release, her hips grinding against her combined fingers, his length filling her so completely… she came with a guttural gasp, and his hand on her neck tightened as her inner walls clamped down around him. With a vicious grunt, Oliver gripped her tight and slammed her down on him once, twice and then…

He came with a heartbreaking gasp of her name as he emptied into her.

They breathed each other’s air, their lips still connected in a slow kiss that neither of them wanted to leave.

They held each other, his slowly softening member still inside her, as they whispered sweet words of nothing, their little bubble of momentary bliss enough.

For this moment, they were together, they loved each other, and it was enough…

It had to be.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/118307811774/right-before-the-wedding-oliver-takes-felicity)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	21. Mutual Release: Felicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Season 2.5. Mutual frustration leads to other mutual things. Felicity’s POV. (Companion piece to Mutual Release: Oliver)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt: Your smut is so great!! fuckening fic drive prompt? unestablished olicity where they mutually masturbate to relieve sexual tension. (Ah, the fuckening fic drive. That should tell you how old this prompt is... gah!)

Felicity could not sleep.

_She could not sleep._

It was probably because she was too wired, that had to be it. They’d had a crazy night, what with chasing some bad guys, getting said bad guys trussed up and over to the good guys, then coming back to the foundry to find that a wire had frayed, and when she’d switched the generator on, a tiny spark had turned into a tiny fire catching on Oliver’s cot.

It had been a crazy night.

And it had only gotten crazier when she’d informed Oliver he was staying at her place.

She hadn’t missed the slight hesitation, the way he’d paused, his eyes narrowing at her - in what she’d thought was going to be the beginning of him fighting her on it - before nodding. He’d obviously been exhausted, that was the only reason why he didn’t put his foot down and give her The Look.

Things had been fine when they’d gotten home. She’d shown him to her spare bedroom, where the spare sheets and towels were, and that should have been that.

Except it hadn’t been that.

She’d had to take a shower - had being the imperative word - because she was covered in grime from the day, and soot and smoke from the small fire. It was late, she’d assumed he had dropped right into bed without preamble, so when she left the bathroom, wrapped only in a thin towel because she wasn’t used to not being able to walk around naked in her space, she hadn’t expected to run into him in the hallway.

She was _naked_ under her towel, still wet from the shower, hair dripping…

They’d both frozen, staring at each other, and Felicity remembered opening her mouth, remembering something spewing out but she wasn’t exactly sure what she’d said, because she’d been far too aware of the cool drop of water falling from her hair, hitting her shoulder, and how his eyes had followed it as it slid down her chest.

She’d only imagined the way his eyes had darkened, right? The way they’d narrowed, the way his lips had opened, how he’d just… stared at her, like _that_.

Yes, she had to have imagined it because anything else was lunacy.

She’d hightailed it out of the hallway so quickly, not giving herself enough time to stop to wonder if the burn in the center of her back was from him staring or her embarrassment.

Felicity sat up, reaching for her glass of water, but nothing was there. Felicity grumbled under her breath, throwing the sheet back. She tiptoed to her door, opening it slightly, listening… but nothing happened. And then she rolled her eyes at herself.

This was her house, darn it, she should be able to walk around however she wanted to walk around.

Still, she stepped out into the hallway lightly, leaving her door open, tiptoeing towards the kitchen, and coincidentally towards his door.

When she heard the rustle of sheets coming from his room, she froze.

And then she heard a soft sigh, and another rustle and she froze even more.

Was he awake?

And then he _moaned_.

Felicity’s eyes widened, her heart stopping so quickly she nearly fell over. She slowly reached out, touching the wall, making sure she was actually standing there, that she wasn’t dreaming, that she didn’t just hear Oliver freaking moan in his room, like he was…

He sighed, and then he gasped, and she heard the distinctive sound of the bed moving, like he was…

“Oh my god,” Felicity mouthed, closing her eyes, moving so softly it was like she wasn’t even there to lean against the wall.

Was he really…

He moaned again, the sound of the bed moving under his self-ministrations coming out to meet her. She glanced over - because how was she hearing this so clearly - and saw his door cracked open.

She should move, give him his privacy, do _something_ , but she didn’t… 

God help her, she didn’t want to because this was… 

Felicity closed her eyes in horror when she felt the rush of desire between her thighs, a push of warmth so quick and fast that she actually throbbed. This shouldn’t be so arousing, right? She shouldn’t be thinking about him in there, with his hand wrapped around himself, stroking up and down, slowly tightening, rubbing the head…

Felicity slouched against the wall, biting her bottom lip to keep herself quiet as her body reacted to the noises he was making. They sounded good… too good, like something she never thought she’d get to hear. She wondered what he’d sound like when he was close. She wondered if he’d squeeze harder, how much faster he’d move, what his face would look like when he…

The movements in there grew faster and she squeezed her thighs together. She raised her hand - in what she thought was to push her glasses back up on her face, but she wasn’t wearing them… Instead, her hand ghosted over her chest, over her already hard nipples. They tingled when she touched them, and she closed her eyes.

Was she really doing this? Was she really?

What was wrong with her?

It was like her hand had a life of its own, moving down her front, slipping over her stomach. She barely brushed the area between her legs - barely brushed it - but she felt every single bit, like she was so overly sensitive someone could breathe on her and she’d fall over.

He moaned again.

Felicity forced herself to inhale slowly, forced herself to move her hand away. She was about to force herself to get away from the wall, get away from his room, leave him alone, when he moaned again, and then…

“Felicity…”

Felicity’s jaw dropped, shock and need clashing together in a violent hurricane of emotions in her chest as her body reacted to the sound.

He’d said her name.

He said _her_ name.

He gasped, the bed groaning slightly as he sped up and Felicity didn’t even think after that. 

She shoved her hand into her pants, gently placing her head on the wall as she pushed her fingers into her panties. She was so wet already, practically dripping and she dipped her middle finger into her juices, swirling her fingers around in a way that took her breath away before spreading them over her clit. It was already hard and ready, aching under her touch, and she stood up on the balls of her feet, her hips arching up as she started rubbing rapidly.

It was amazing how ready she was, how close to the brink… the sounds he was making, the thought of his hand wrapped around himself, pleasuring himself, thinking about _her_ …

Her pleasure was a tight whip that snapped out from her center, cascading through her body before rapidly swinging back, tightening in the pit of her stomach, growing hotter and hotter, burning as she chased her own release right along with him…

“Oooh,” he whimpered from his room, and she swore she actually heard his hand moving faster.

She rubbed herself harder, her fingers sliding over her clit just how she liked it, the quickest and easiest way to get herself off…

She wanted to come when he did, wanted to feel her release crashing through her just as he did…

“Oh god,” he choked out in a harsh whisper, and Felicity bit her lip, rubbing faster, the pleasure building quicker and quicker…

Oliver let out a loud moan that he immediately cut off as he came, the sound of his mattress groaning under him. Her clit grew harder under her fingers as her orgasm raced up on her, as her mind went into overdrive, imagining the thick ropes of cum shooting out, coating his stomach and hand, slowly sliding down those delicious cut lines of his abdomen that led straight to his…

Her release came on without warning and she bit her tongue to keep herself from making any noise as she stiffened.

It whipped through her, radiating heat and pleasure in a wicked combination that almost made her moan, her hand still moving, her mind still in the bedroom with him, still imagining what he looked like as he came…

Felicity shuddered, holding her breath, her hips still undulating against her hand before coming to a stop. It took all of her willpower to slowly release the air that was making her lungs burn.

She pulled her soaking fingers out of her pants, wiping them on her tank top, forcing herself to breath evenly until she was alone…

And then she let her head fall back against the wall with a loud thud.

Felicity froze, the pleasure-filled aftereffects disappearing instantly.

She heard Oliver freeze in his room and Felicity was moving before she could process what she’d just done. She ran back into her room on her toes, not making a single sound - she’d spend the rest of the week wondering just how she had done that - slowly turning to shut her door. She heard him, heard the sound of his door opening, and she launched herself into her bed, throwing the comforter over her face before freezing again…

Felicity didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as the floor outside her door creaked… 

But that was it.

It was a long time before she fell asleep.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	22. Mutual Release: Oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Season 2.5. Mutual frustration leads to other mutual things. Oliver’s POV. (Companion piece to Mutual Release: Felicity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt: Your smut is so great!! fuckening fic drive prompt? unestablished olicity where they mutually masturbate to relieve sexual tension. (Ah, the fuckening fic drive. That should tell you how old this prompt is... gah!)

Oliver knew the instant he’d agreed to stay at Felicity’s that he would regret it.

_He knew that_.

Something had been… _something_ between them, something neither of them were willing to recognize, to do anything about really, and that had been okay because they always had their separate places to go after work. She went home, he went to his cot, or she was at the foundry while he was out in the field.

It was manageable.

But it had been a long day, he’d been tired and sore from running after a group of kids who’d bought a case of guns from a gang in Coast City, and then they’d gotten back to the foundry only to have the entire place almost burn down from an exposed wire that somehow caught when they turned the generator on, causing a small fire to start on his cot.

But it had been fine… until it wasn’t.

And that moment came when he stepped into the hallway the same time she stepped out of the bathroom after her shower.

It had taken all over Oliver’s self-control to stay right where he was when she froze, her eyes going wide, staring up at him, looking simultaneously gorgeous as hell and vulnerable standing there in nothing - absolutely nothing - but a towel that was way too thin.

She’d said something - and he knew that because her lips were moving - but then a tiny droplet of water had dripped from her hair, landing on her bare shoulder, sliding down the smooth skin to disappear into where she’d tied the towel off.

His fingers had itched to catch it, to dry the spot, before… kissing it. God, he’d thought about kissing it, right then. He’d thought about pushing her up against the wall, hooking his hands under her arms, lifting her just enough so his tongue could follow the path the water took…

And then he’d snapped out of it.

What the _hell_ was he thinking?

This was Felicity.

The tension dancing between them had been so thick he could taste it when he’d realized she’d been saying something - he couldn’t even remember - before she darted off into her room.

Oliver had immediately darted back into his own room, letting the door close itself as he laid down.

That had been two hours ago, and he was still thinking about that damn towel.

Oliver groaned, rubbing his face, shifting to get comfortable.

The bed smelled like her.

The sheets were soft, caressing his skin, making him wonder how she would feel… 

She would be soft, he knew that, she was always soft. And fragrant, she smelled of something spicy and flowery, but so light it was barely detectable, and it mixed so well with whatever made her _Felicity_.

Oliver’s body hardened at the thought.

He wondered what she smelled like after a shower, everything washed away, leaving just her. Her skin had still be wet… the towel damp and clinging to her soft curves.

It had to be because he was tired, physically and emotionally, that he didn’t stop to wonder what he was doing. It was the only explanation for why he didn’t stop his hand from sliding down his body, to the hardness that had been present since the second he saw her out there, knowing she was wearing nothing underneath that towel.

Oliver sighed, caressing himself through his sweats, but it wasn’t enough. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone, a long while. He’d met women, been around a lot of them, but he was beginning to suspect his lack of interest was because they weren’t _her_.

Oh damn it, he was in trouble.

Oliver threw his sheet back, the cool air in the room biting at his bare chest as he pushed his sweats down, his thick erection popping free. He wrapped his hand around it, sighing again, stroking up and down. It grew heavier as he thought about Felicity in the hallway again, thought about the drip of water sliding down her shoulder, imagined licking it, hearing the sounds she would make.

His hand moved quickly, looking for a quick release, and it built rapidly… but not because of his tried and true method, no… but because he was watching in his mind’s eye as he pushed Felicity against the wall, his tongue following that water, tugging the towel off…

Oliver moaned at the thought, seeing her pert breasts, her toned stomach, all leading down to her center where she’d be wet and ready for him. He sighed, his hips moving to meet his hand as he thought about kneeling in front of her, lifting one of her gorgeous legs to throw of his shoulder, exposing her wet folds… 

She’d be a dark pink, shining, aching…

She’d whisper his name…

He moaned softly, hearing the way she said his name now, but only hearing it with less air, more need in her voice. She’d shove her fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he’d hold her hip with one hand, the other sliding up her stomach to palm one of her breasts as he finally tasted her.

Oliver moaned again, and gripped himself with just his fingers, rubbing himself rapidly, his hips moving slightly, enhancing his pleasure as he imagined pushing her up the wall, tasting her, making her come…

“Felicity…” he whispered, arching into his hand. He felt the hot drip of precum seeping from the head of his erection, and it slid down, making the underside of his cock slick.

And then Oliver imagined her on her knees before him, her lips wrapped around him and he gasped, his hand moving quicker, chasing the hot burn of pleasure starting to build at the base of his spine.

Those beautiful plump lips, covered in hot pink lipstick, wrapped around him, her tongue swirling. Her hair would be wet, her body glistening from the shower, her taste still on his lips as she returned the favor…

“Oooh,” he whimpered, feeling her lips…

The coil inside him grew tighter and tighter, watching as she sucked on him, and he palmed his dick, rubbing, twisting his wrist with each thrust. She’d take all of him, swallowing…

“Oh god,” Oliver choked out, his hand moving faster.

The orgasm shot through him, and Oliver moaned loudly before cutting it off, pinching his lips together to keep his sounds to himself as his cum spurted out over his stomach. He kept rubbing, riding the pleasure until there was nothing left, his mind still in his fantasy, barely feeling his cum slowly leaking down, sliding down his abs, following the cut lines…

Oliver collapsed on the bed with a satisfied sigh, spent, his breathing harsh.

God… he’d needed that.

Now… now what he needed was to figure out how he was going to stop this goddamn fantasizing because this… this wasn’t going to work.

A soft thud sounded from the hallway.

Oliver froze, the pleasurable haze from his orgasm dissipating quickly. He sat up, listening for more, but nothing came.

Oliver slowly got up, grabbing his t-shirt, wiping himself clean before tucking himself back into his sweats.

He opened his door and peeked out, but nothing was there.

He’d definitely heard something

A thud.

Oliver quietly stepped out, taking a few steps towards Felicity’s door… no, there wasn’t any way that she… 

_No._

Still, Oliver paused, listening, but there were no noises coming from her room.

*

Oliver woke before her.

He thought about getting breakfast because the only thing she had in her kitchen was a half-filled jug of milk, two eggs, something that looked like it might have been pickles, mustard and some powder pancake mix that only required water, but he didn’t have his bike with him. He thought about taking her car, but trying to climb into that tiny thing was bad enough as the passenger. He couldn’t imagine driving it.

So… Oliver made pancakes.

Felicity came down as he was finishing up.

“You…” Felicity paused, hair mussed from sleeping on it, her tank top twisted slightly underneath a sweater she’d pulled on. She blinked at him, looking adorably confused, and Oliver couldn’t stop the smile that covered his face. “Oliver, are you cooking?”

“Yeah, I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh it’s alright. It’s more than alright. I’m starving.” She stepped into the kitchen, heading straight for the food. “You should be my guest more often.”

She walked up, tearing off a piece of a pancake from the plate of finished ones.

“Hey, hands off,” he said and she made a small pouty face before schooling her features. And then she stared at him. “What?”

She grinned. “You have… Here.”

She reached up, her thumb wiping away what must have been some pancake batter because she was about to put it in her mouth before changing her mind. Oliver tried to tell himself to look away, that the idea of watching her finger in her mouth was something he should not be wanting to see… but he didn’t. Instead he looked at her lips, his mind flashing back to what he’d imagined about last night, and his stomach tightened.

“A little more,” she said, reaching up again, wiping away the rest with her fingers, and he caught the distinct scent of…

Oliver’s heart lurched as he smelled what he was pretty sure was her arousal, like she’d… touched herself last night, like she’d…

Felicity froze, her eyes widening, her hand still on his cheek as he inhaled deeply, realizing at the same time as he did what exactly he was smelling on her…

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	23. Mutual Release: Oliver & Felicity, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Story #3 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. Felicity and Oliver get caught up in the moment, leading to mutual releases in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt - hi! :) just want you to know i loved loved your Mutual Release fic!! are you planning on writing a follow up to Oliver's story? from the moment it ends?! it would be awesome!! :))

_Felicity froze, her eyes widening, her hand still on his cheek as he inhaled deeply, realizing at the same time as he did what exactly he was smelling on her…_

A deep red flush rushed across her, making her skin feel like she was being pricked over and over with a red hot poker as they stared at each other, neither moving… until the distinct smell of burning pancake permeated the air, snapping her out of his stare.

“The pancakes,” Felicity whispered, and she pulled her hand back, but Oliver was faster. He caught her wrist and she gasped, “Oliver, what-” but his eyes never left her face as he swung his hand out, shoving the pan off the burner without looking. He didn’t let go of her as the pan clattered across the stovetop.

He opened his mouth, but it snapped shut just as quickly, like he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say - if _anything_ , and god, she really didn’t want him to say anything because this was… this was too much.

He could _smell her_ on her own _fingers_.

It was making her feel like throwing up the butterflies suddenly shoving themselves against the walls of her stomach.

She hadn’t thought about what she was doing when she wiped his cheek. He’d had batter dried on him; it’d been cute and endearing, and she’d wiped it away.

That was it… but it was so _not it_.

She knew what her fingers smelled like; she’d wiped drool off her face that morning with the very ones that she’d used to rub herself with last night, in the hallway, listening to him as he…

Felicity blushed even more as a rush of arousal flooded her sex at the memory, her stomach clenching, pulling at her center with the sound of his breathy, “Felicity,” echoing in her ear…

Electricity turned the air into charcoal between them, making her skin feel way too hot and tight.

Oliver slowly pressed her hand to his cheek, and her stomach dropped as he inhaled again. His hand on her wrist actually burned.

It took her a moment to realize she was breathing like she’d just gotten back from a nice three-hour long jog.

His gaze was steady as he took a step towards her, and she took a step back, matching him. He paused, and her body grew hotter and tighter as she watched his pupils dilate, his eyes growing darker, his skin growing warm under her hand. 

“You were in the hallway last night?” he asked softly and her heart choked, her eyes widening… he wasn’t even _trying_ to be coy.

“What?” she whispered. “No.”

“Did you hear me, last night?” he continued, taking another step and she told herself to shake her head, deny it, but all she could do was stare up at him like a deer caught in headlights, giving him all the answer he needed. “Felicity…”

Oh god, the way he said her name…

Her eyes fluttered, her breathing growing erratic as she heard in his voice the way he’d said it last night, when he’d been thinking about her as he… She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing came out.

Oliver pushed her hand further up his face and she pressed her other hand to his chest - to push him back, that was what she was supposed to do… but god, he was so hot through the plaid he was wearing, his heat was scorching.

His heart raced under her palm, his own breathing heavy and deep…

“Did you touch yourself too?” he asked, and she could only stare. “When I was?”

“I…” She didn’t answer, because she _couldn’t_ answer, but it was all the answer Oliver needed.

He let out a needy moan, the sound shooting straight through her, igniting a wicked fire in her core as he cupped her face, his lips finding hers in a wet kiss. Time stopped, for a split second, enough time for Felicity to wonder if she was dreaming, but it felt too real.

His stubble scraping her skin, his lips so soft… but it was that he was so warm under her hands...

This was real.

A soft cry fell from deep in Felicity’s throat and she gripped his face, pulling him down closer, her other fingers curling in his shirt, using it to pull herself up to meet him as much as she could. He tasted like butter and stolen pancake batter mixed with everything Oliver and it was intoxicating. It was everything she’d been ignoring for so long, because she wasn’t supposed to want him, she wasn’t supposed to be a walking cliché, falling for the man she just happened to spend way too much time with… and he wasn’t supposed to want her back.

_But he did._

Oliver moaned again, and it was so desperate and beautiful that Felicity answered with her own. He walked them backwards until her ass hit the counter abruptly, knocking things - useless meaningless things, who cared about things? - to the floor. The sounds he made stoked the fire inside her, and she pulled on him, trying to get him closer, wrapping a leg around his, feeling his heavy hard bulge pressing into her stomach.

The kiss lacked anything resembling coordination or rhythm - it was too desperate, too much at once, but they couldn’t stop, they didn’t want to. It was wet and warm and powerful and it was the best one of her entire life.

Because it was _Oliver_.

But it was also… _Oliver_.

They couldn’t do this.

She was ready to climb him like a tree, ready to rip his clothes off, shove her pants down and hop on the counter and let him do whatever he wanted with her, but… but no, it couldn’t be like this.

It shouldn’t be like this.

Whatever weirdly amazing symbiotic wavelength they were on was operating at full speed because he realized the same thing at the same time.

“Felicity,” he gasped hotly, trying to pull back, but instead he kissed her again, and again, like he couldn’t stop. Felicity groaned, digging her nails into his scalp, and he shivered in response; she cataloged it in her mind for later.

But would there be a later?

Should there be a later?

“Wait, wait, hang on, hang on,” she moaned, and he stopped, but he didn’t move.

The intimate bubble they’d created in the space of ten seconds pulsated around them, urging them on, urging them to take what they had both wanted for so long, but… they _couldn’t_.

Not like this.

“Not like this,” Oliver whispered in agreement, nodding, his forehead pressed to hers. “Right.”

“Right,” she repeated, trying to catch her breath while also trying to ignore how _good_ he felt pressed against her. She’d always marveled at how big he was - because he was huge - but right now he was everywhere, surrounding her, cocooning her and she never wanted to leave… “Right.”

They didn’t move; they didn’t want to move. A drawer handle was digging into Felicity’s thigh painfully, but she was happy to stay right there, forever, letting that stupid handle dig into her until the end of time if it meant being right here, in Oliver’s arms.

“Felicity,” he breathed. “I…” She was nodding before he could get the words out, encouraging him. “You heard me last night?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Trepidation, shock and awe filled her chest like gasoline ready to explode.

He was trembling, like he was fighting himself and she cupped the back of his neck, kissing him, once, twice, three time, more… soft, easy pecks as he said, “I was thinking about you… God, I think about you, all the time…”

“Me too.” Oliver’s eyes flew open and she gave him a shy smile. “What else is a girl to do when you walk around shirtless all the time?”

He gave her a breathy chuckle, closing his eyes, pressing the full length of his body against hers. She choked out a moan when she felt the very, very large bulge pushing into her again. He moved in slow, easy movements against her, rubbing himself, and she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead harder against his.

“When I saw you in that towel last night,” he continued, his voice so low, just for them, only for them. “I thought about taking it off…” He closed his eyes, his hands dropping to her shoulders and down her body to rest on her hips. “I thought about pushing you up against the wall… opening your legs, so I could taste you…”

The imagery had Felicity shuddering, a surge of warmth soaking her panties; his tongue on her, tasting her, eating her…

Oliver felt her response and he rubbed against her with more urgency, his erection swelling, growing harder…

“Show me,” he whispered, his fingers digging into her hips. “Show me how you touched yourself.”

Felicity’s clit tingled at his words, but something inside her had her hesitating for a quick breath, and he pushed her further into the counter with a, “Please… Felicity…” and that was all she needed.

Her hand dropped from his neck as she opened her eyes to find him already staring at her. It was intense, almost too intense, but she didn’t look away as she dragged her fingers down his chest, touching both of them where they were pressed together. He moaned when she grazed the bulge in his jeans before she slipped her hand into her pants.

“Oh god, Felicity,” he said, his voice strangled.

“Let me show you,” Felicity said, her voice low with need, with desire and he pulled back, his brow furrowing in question. She removed her hand and grabbed his, pushing both of them into her pants, into her panties. His eyes fluttered shut, his face twisting in a bid for control.

She watched him, knowing she was already wet, knowing what he felt when she pushed his fingers against her sex.

Oliver growled her name viciously, wrapping his free arm around her waist and lifted her to sit on the counter. He shoved her legs apart, pushing himself between them as he tugged her to the edge of the counter, pressing himself against her inner thigh, his fingers moving against her wet, puffy lips.

“Show me,” he gritted, shoving his face into her shoulder. Felicity’s head fell back, hitting the cupboard with a dull thud. She started moving her fingers, showing him exactly how she’d touched herself the night before.

He maneuvered his to cover hers, following her every move as she found her clit, already so sensitive that one touch made her hips jerk erratically. She started to rub the wet nub, rubbing just like she had when she’d listened to him last night, to his moans, his gasps…

“Oh god,” she moaned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer as he applied pressure to her fingers, sending sparks of pleasure pulsating through her as he rubbed himself against her thigh in short, uneven strokes.

It was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt in her life.

His breath was hot and wet on her shoulder, his thrusts pushing her awkwardly into the counter, as he started whispering in a choked voice, “I thought about you… last night… how you’d taste, how you’d feel wrapped around me… on your knees.” She gripped him tighter. “Your lips wrapped around me, those beautiful lips. God, I love your lips…”

“Yes… more, more,” Felicity whimpered, and Oliver moved faster, his hand just following hers as she chased her release, the pressure starting to build in painfully sharp shockwaves in her center. His moans grew louder, his whispered words more frantic, describing how he thought about her lips, her bright pink lips, sucking on him, sucking… sucking…

She moved faster, her clit slick and eager under her touch - under his touch - as he rubbed himself against her.

“I wanted to come… in your mouth…” he choked out, his words coming out in a mindless babble, that she was sure he wasn’t even aware he was saying, but it was pure, and it pushed her higher. “Into your warmth…”

“Oh god, oh god… ah, ah, ah!”

Felicity came, her cries slammed against the walls, the orgasm shooting through her, tightening painfully in her core before exploding through her body. She wrenched her head back, hitting the cupboard, her mouth open in a silent scream as sharp pricks tingled along every inch of her, down to the soles of her feet, her release coating both of them.

Felicity barely felt him move his hand as he slid it around, still in her panties, to grip her ass, his fingers digging into her as he shifted just enough to rub himself against her hot sex. He thrust against her in time with the aftershocks of her release and Felicity yanked her hand out of her pants, her fingers glistening, to grip his neck, moving her hips with his, urging him on…

“Aaahhhh!” Oliver stiffened in her arms, shoving himself against her as hard as he could as he came in his pants, the hot surge of his cum soaking through the jeans…

A moment passed… and another, as they sat there, leaning on each other, inhaling each other as much as the still lingering smell of charred pancakes.

“So…” Felicity finally whispered. “That happened.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	24. Mutual Release: Oliver & Felicity, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Story #4 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. They haven’t talked about it, but they both know it can’t go past whatever it is they’re doing… that doesn’t stop them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt - Prompt: I think the mutual release follow up should stick with the theme! Oliver refuses to cross the line and have sex with her but Felicity convinces him to let her watch a repeat of last night and they masturbate in front of each other.

_“So… that happened.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“I guess we should… talk.”_

Oliver knew the instant he walked into the foundry that Felicity was already there. The lights were on, the familiar whir of the servers working at full capacity filling the air… but there was also the light scent of her perfume lingering, telling him she’d beaten him there by about twenty minutes. He checked his watch; Diggle and Roy were due around six, getting back from the other side of the Glades where they’d been doing recon work all day.

Roy’s call had interrupted them that morning, and Oliver had sprung away from Felicity so hard and quick he’d nearly tripped on his own feet and landed hand-first on the still-hot burner. She’s stared at him with a startled face, not moving, still sprawled on the counter, two wet spots on her pajama bottoms - one from her, one from him - her eyes wide, her fingers gripping the counter to keep from falling off.

Roy was calling. About a new lead.

_… It’d be so easy to walk back over there, tug her pants off; he’d inhale her sweet scent, taste her, fill her with his tongue… she’d be so wet; he wanted her drenching his lips and chin as he made her come again before seeing how many fingers he could…_

Work.

_… Or she would hop off the counter, stalking towards him, her eyes dark with promise. She’d toss his phone aside, her nimble fingers having his pants undone in the blink of an eye; she’d say, ‘we should probably clean you up,’ before she tugged his pants down, her warm mouth doing just that, taking his half-erect cock between her lips… he’d get hard again and she’d suck him off, just like he imagined her doing…_

Recon.

_… He was already growing hard again as he stared at her, his neck still drying from her wet fingers where she’d gripped him, his hand still hot from following her lead when she’d touched herself… it’d be so easy to pick her up and move to the kitchen table, bury himself inside her…_

Duty called.

_… He wanted to watch her come this time; he wanted to see the pleasure build inside her, watch her as she flew apart, losing control because of him, for him…_

Oliver had left, neither of them saying a word.

He had no idea what to say, and judging by the look in her eyes when she’d silently slid off the counter, wrapping her sweater tightly around herself, she was in the same boat. It had just… _happened_. The second she’d touched his check, the instant he recognized that scent on her fingers, nothing else but _her_ had mattered in that moment.

If Roy hadn’t called him…

Oliver paused at the top of the stairs, watching her chair turn towards them. He watched her long gorgeous legs as she uncrossed them, standing tentatively, waiting for him to come all the way down.

He didn’t move, his eyes glued to her tonged calves and smooth thighs, simultaneously feeling the way she’d wrapped herself around him when he’d thrust against her just that morning… and feeling cheated because he hadn’t had the chance to properly touch them. 

She had to wear a skirt? She had to wear those heels - were they higher than her usual fare? - and stand up, move, do anything… 

He was in trouble. 

Oliver made his way down. Felicity stood, twisting her hands, pinching her lips… and he had to stop at the base of the steps to keep from going over to her, from cupping her face, from kissing her again… from giving into the need to feel her against him.

He knew if he did, if he went over and kissed her, touched her… lifted her into his arms and pushed her against the wall, she wouldn’t fight him. She’d moan, just like she had that morning, and neither of them would care about anything but _that moment_ again. Nothing would matter but losing himself in her, and that wasn’t good.

At least one of them needed to be semi-sane, because Oliver could actually feel her panties tearing in his hand when he ripped them off her, feel his fingers struggling to shove his jeans down, his body soaring in anticipation when he pressed himself against her hot sex…

Oliver rubbed his fingers together, and she didn’t miss the motion.

And thank fuck she didn’t move closer to him. 

“We should probably… talk,” she said. Oliver barely made himself nod. He moved, making a wide berth around her to his chair at the opposite bank of computers. “Because… this is something people talk about, I guess. Or not. Or maybe they do, I don’t know, I’ve never done… been in this…” She waved her hands between them as he set his jacket down. “I… I don’t know what to call this.”

“Me neither,” he said, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed gravel.

He cleared his throat, sitting down, lacing his fingers together. Felicity hesitated, watching his every move before she glanced back at her chair, but she didn’t move for it. Oliver stared at the floor, unable to even look at her in case he did something uncouth…

She finally moved, back to her side, and silence reigned for a heavy second.

Oliver sighed. “I don’t think this is… smart.”

“Oh,” was all she said.

Her chair groaned when she sat further back and he looked at her. She was staring at the ground, her face an open book - god, she thought he _regretted_ it…

The words were out before he could stop them, “I don’t think I could stop, Felicity… if we started. Again.”

Wide eyes flew up to meet his, her response immediate, “Me either.”

His chest deflated, his head bowing and he squeezed his hands together.

“So what now?” she asked.

Oliver opened his mouth to respond, to give her a plan because he liked plans - plans were safe and gave things structure - but he had nothing. He hadn’t thought about what happened next, he hadn’t _cared_. He hadn’t been able to think past how good it’d felt being in her arms, having her wrapped around him… how good it’d been and he hadn’t even _unzipped his goddamn pants_.

Oliver groaned and sat back in the chair, scrubbing his face.

Felicity shifted in her chair.

His eyes flew open, immediately landing on her legs.

She noticed, and Oliver’s eyes slowly dragged up her body.

“Pretend it didn’t happen it is then,” Felicity said breathlessly, shifting again, squeezing her thighs together.

She was flushed, lips parted… they were painted bright red today.

“Yeah,” was all he managed. And then their eyes met.

He really should have just walked right past her, never looked at her. Was that the only way to make this work? He couldn’t even look at her without his jeans getting tight, his blood rushing in anticipation, in remembered passion… his body remembering the way she’d touched him, how she’d tasted…

“It’s too bad,” she whispered, her tone laced with insinuation. Oliver cocked his head, waiting for her to continue, neither commenting on the way the air around them seemed to grow thick and heavy - and hot, too hot… She smiled coyly. “I didn’t get to see yours.”

Oliver felt like someone had just slapped him across the mouth as everything inside him exploded with a heady mixture of arousal and need, his heart stopping dead at the same time as he processed her words.

“What time are they due back?” she asked.

“Six,” he answered instantly.

That wasn’t what he meant to say. He meant to say, _‘No.’_

“That’s… enough time, if…”

“Felicity…”

“Just once, Oliver,” she replied softly, and his cock jumped to life, even more than it already was.

The heavy erection that he’d been walking around with all day made itself known, pressing painfully against the harsh seam of his jeans. It didn’t escape his attention how languid she suddenly was in her chair, her legs falling to the side, only the fact that she had her ankles crossed keeping them together, and he had the perfect image of her legs falling open, her fingers dancing up her thigh, inviting him…

“Just once…”

Oliver groaned, shutting his eyes, his fingers twitching to do what she was asking.

No, this couldn’t… this couldn’t work, not like this…

“Please?”

Her quiet plea was his undoing.

Oliver’s eyes snapped open, his mouth falling open in a pant as his fingers flew to his jeans. She stared at him, her lids growing heavy, her tongue sneaking out to touch her lip - fuck, that was too much, she looked too good. He undid his button and fly, lifting his hips enough to shove his jeans and boxer briefs down.

His erection popped free, bobbing with his movements, and he quickly gripped it in a tight fist, moving his hand up to squeeze the head.

Felicity gasped at the same time he did, like she was feeling everything he did. She licked her lips, tugging her bottom one between her teeth and the sight of the white against the shocking red made him groan, arousal shooting through him, making his dick swell.

He moved his fist, fast, not needing anything but the sight of her watching him jerk off in front of her.

The thought that they shouldn’t be doing this, that Roy and Digg might walk in and catch them, that she was keeping herself all the way over there, doing nothing but watching his hand move up and down, up and down, her chest rising with heavier breaths, her hands gripping the arms of her chair…

“Oh god, Felicity,” he moaned, his head falling back, his hand moving faster. He twisted it rapidly, pulling on the head when he came up, the pain mixing with the pleasure…

“You’re so beautiful, Oliver,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her fingers digging into the chair, and he felt beautiful. He felt like a god, sitting there, letting her watch him, knowing he was doing this for her, because she’d asked him to. “Oliver…”

Her nipples were hard, poking through her tight top, and she shifted in the chair, biting her lip again as she squeezed her thighs together.

He knew she had to be wet – wet from watching him; and god, now he _knew_ how wet she could get.

“Touch yourself,” he grated out, and she gasped his name, the sound bursting with unfulfilled need. “For me, touch yourself for me.”

She nodded frantically and she spread her legs, pulling her panties out of the way before pressing her hand between her thighs.

“Let me see, I wanna see,” he mumbled, rubbing himself harder. It felt so good… waves of pleasure cascaded through him, a dull burn starting to grow with fervor. She lifted her leg, hooking it over the arm of her chair, spreading herself open for him and he groaned her name, the word ending in a desperate whine as she pushed two fingers inside herself, sliding in with ease. “Yes, like that, like that…”

“Oliver,” she whimpered. He watched her plaster her palm to her pubic bone, to her clit, and start rubbing in quick jerky movements, making her cry out. Her hips arched to meet her hand, and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

They watched each other, their mutual pleasure growing, growing…

She spread her legs wider, her hand rotating slightly, right against her clit, and he thought about how wet she’d been, how his fingers had smelled like her for hours afterwards…

“Felicity…” he whispered.

He noticed the deep pink blush starting to creep up her chest, her neck…

The sound of her fingers thrusting into her wet sex echoed the soft pull of his hand wrapped around his cock.

He saw himself getting up, shoving her hand out of the way and thrusting into her to the hilt.

“Oh god,” he croaked, his hips moving and he twisted his hand quickly, staring at her hand as she touched herself for him.

“Yes,” she moaned, moving faster and her desperate, “Oh, oh, oh, oh god, I…” pushed him over the edge.

Oliver came with a throaty cry, his cum spurting out of him, the world dimming for a second. He barely had enough sense to shift so it landed on his chest, coating his shirt. He kept moving, mindlessly, harder, finishing himself off as her moans grew louder.

He let out a strangled sigh, trying to catch his breath, and watched her stare at his chest, at his cum, her hips grinding into her hand. The flushed pink raced up over her skin, her head falling back, her eyes still on his cum… and then she stiffened, coming with an explosive shout that echoed through the foundry.

The orgasm rolled through her, her face gorgeously out of control, her mouth opened in a needy cry… before she slumped into the chair, completely spent.

Felicity hummed, pulling her fingers out, and Oliver felt another bout of needy start to grow rapidly in his chest as she pushed her fingers over her puffy lips, spreading her juices. Her head lolled lazily, her eyes half-drugged with pleasure, and he was struck with how trusting she was, how open…

And he was right about wanting to watch her come.

She was _stunning_.

Oliver stood jerkily, without thought, shoving himself back into his boxers. He tugged his shirt off, crumpling the soiled material into a ball as he made his way over to her.

She opened her eyes, watching him without censure, neither saying a thing.

Instead he leaned over her and cupped her face, pressing his lips to hers. It was soft at first, but quickly grew into more as she whined deep in her chest, using her hand - the hand she’d just come all over - to grab his neck, pulling him closer to her…

The sound of the foundry door at the top of the stairs opening interrupted them, and they shot away from each other like the other was on fire.

Oliver spun to grab his leathers, yanking the glass case open a little too hard, as Felicity stood - he felt a tickle of delight when she stumbled, her legs still jelly-like - and headed towards the bathroom just as Roy and Diggle started coming down the stairs.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the awesome response to these little ficlets, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying them!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	25. Mutual Release: Oliver & Felicity, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #5 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. They know it can't keep happening… but it does.

_They tried_ , they really did.

It became an unspoken agreement to avoid any moments where they might be alone together, where temptation might take over, where they might give in… where small glances, a hand on the shoulder, a little grin could quickly spiral into more.

They went from spending almost every minute together to purposefully keeping someone around to act as their buffer. Felicity suddenly found herself having a lot more dinners with John and Lyla, even with Roy. She invited Lyla out to go baby clothes shopping, she offered to wire up Roy’s new sound system… anything to avoid being at the foundry.

Being alone with Oliver felt too much like playing with fire - they weren’t a something, they shouldn’t be a something because they had more in their lives than that simple desire… their relationship was based on Oliver’s mission, on what was best for the city, there were things that had to come before them… right?

But that didn’t stop them from wanting it. 

Felicity wished she didn’t feel the tug in the pit of her stomach when she caught him staring at her, or the rush in her chest when her hand brushed too close to his, their fingers naturally seeking each other out. Their hands would intertwine for a split second, just a blip of time, but it was long enough to send the desire constantly simmering below the surface careening into a bone-deep hunger that thrummed through her veins, leaving her trembling, making her _throb_ …

His grip always tightened, like he _knew_ , and he’d step closer…

But then reality always stomped back in, or someone broke the spell, and they’d jerk away from each other, resuming their now customary ten feet of separation.

_They tried…_

… But sometimes it didn’t work.

Like when he came back early from a patrol, and she’d been leaning over her desk, scrawling out a note for him: 

_‘Lyla had weird contractions, so John’s at the hospital - they’re fine. Roy went home. F’_

She hadn’t heard him enter, hadn’t heard him do anything until he’d been right behind her…

She’d felt him… heard him taking a short breath… and then he’d plastered himself to her back. His lips found the back of her neck, his hands reaching around her to the pants she wore for Tech Village, the ones she’d vowed to never wear anywhere else but in that hellhole when she first got the job. They had quickly become a staple of her wardrobe a few weeks earlier, because they were another barrier between them…

His fingers were already moving, undoing all the buttons, and then he’d grabbed her hand, pushing it into her panties as he pressed her over her desk.

Felicity should have argued. She should have said, _‘No, this is bad.’_

But she didn’t.

They never did.

She’d been so wet - she was always wet for him; her body knew what waited for her if she just gave in - and she’d quickly spread it all over her clit. He’d pressed his hard bulge against the curve of her ass, gripping her hip with one hand, the other curving around her sex, pressing her hand harder through her pants, rubbing _with_ her…

She’d ridden both their hands until she was yelping, her voice carrying through the foundry, and he’d thrust against her, just like he had in the kitchen, his harsh grunts echoing in her ear, growing more urgent. He’d grabbed her jaw, his lips seeking hers, the hand cupping her sex anchoring her in place. Pleasurable aftershocks radiated through her pelvis, making her shudder and moan as he’d rubbed himself harder and faster…

The kiss had been hot, wet and messy when he came, just like the warm wetness seeping through his pants into hers…

It only made them try harder.

If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, and for a while they let themselves think it could work…

Until it didn’t.

*

Felicity felt good. She hadn’t had that much to drink at John and Lyla’s, although she’d had a little bit more than usual to compensate for Lyla’s lack of ability to drink at the moment. Because she cared… maybe that was it.

Because it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Oliver had poured himself into her passenger seat after dinner at the Diggle’s.

Alone.

They were alone. 

Felicity pulled up next to his bike at the foundry, slipping the car into park. She deliberately left it on, giving him a tight smile. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he replied. The only move he made was to touch the door handle. “Tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Felicity turned to face the brick wall, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “Tomorrow is another day.”

She waited for him to get out… but he didn’t move, and she didn’t tell him to. She stared at the wall, the tension between them growing thick, making the air feel soupy.

It’d be so easy to…

_No._

Felicity closed her eyes, forcing her lungs to work, before looking at him…

He was already staring at her, and her heart stopped.

“Oliver,” she said, her voice huskier than it had any right to be. “Get out of the car.”

He blinked, inhaling quickly, making his nostrils flare. She gripped the steering wheel harder, to keep herself from reaching for him. He still didn’t move, and she took a shaky breath, willing herself to look away, look at anything else, but she couldn’t.

_She could not look away._

His sharp blue eyes, a deep cobalt in the shadows of the car, were like a tractor beam. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive and every cell in her body responded to it, yearning towards him. She felt the ghostly memory of his hands on her body, his rushed words as he whispered dirty things in her ear, his wet lips, his hot fingers… 

A rush of warmth flooded her panties and she squeezed her thighs together, tearing her eyes away from his.

“Oliver, please,” she pleaded, closing her eyes.

Silence reigned… before the soft rustle of his clothes sounded. She _felt_ his hand, hovering of her arm, like he was about to touch her… but instead he wrenched his door open, the Mini shaking with the force.

"Goodnight, Felicity.”

He didn’t wait for a response, shutting the door with finality.

“’Night," she whispered, watching him go.

When he disappeared into the building, she thought about putting the car into gear and leaving…

But she didn’t move.

She barely let go of the steering wheel.

_What if he was undressing for bed?_

"It's time to go." 

_She wondered what he wore - did he sleep naked?_

Felicity closed her eyes, shaking her head, holding the wheel tighter. "This is ridiculous. Go."

_Maybe he was taking a shower…_

"Oh god," Felicity whimpered, biting her tongue. She could perfectly see the water sluicing down his abdomen, over the strictly cut muscles, down, down, down… following the very distinct ‘v’ that led straight to his…

Felicity moaned under her breath.

She hadn't been lying when she'd said he was beautiful, when he'd pulled out his thick erection a few weeks ago. Felicity's palms grew damp, her right hand twitching, imagining how he'd feel in her palm. She’d watched it swell the more he touched himself, finally growing a dark dusky pink when he'd come…

She gripped the steering wheel, remembering watching him, remembering the feeling that he'd come because of her, for her, and that thought alone had pushed her over the edge.

And now he was in there, alone, and…

She had a choice.

Felicity shut the engine off in one smooth movement and was out of the car in the blink of an eye. The next she was at the entrance to the foundry, entering the security code and then the door was opening.

She was already halfway down the stairs when she spotted him.

He stood next to her desk, facing the stairs, waiting. His face was clouded with the same fiery lust coursing through her veins, and his hands were clenched in tight fists, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, his eyes on her…

_Waiting._

One of the monitors behind him showed the camera for the parking lot.

He’d been watching her - watching her struggle… Felicity’s stomach dropped, and she knew right then.

She was done trying.

She was done denying it, hiding from it, whatever it was between them. She _needed_ him, something inside her called to him, craving his touch almost as much as she craved to touch him.

The same unhindered passion reflected back at her as she quickly descended the rest of the stairs, whispering his name, the needy desperation in her voice cementing her decision. 

The instant they within arm’s reach, Oliver grabbed her, yanking her against his chest, his lips crashing into hers.

Felicity moaned, pushing up on her toes to get closer to him, the humming in her body shooting to deafening levels. Oliver hiked her into his arms, pulling her off her feet and spun them around, colliding with the first surface he could find. The hard metal of her desk bit at her ass and legs as he shoved her against it, forcing the desk back a few inches; the sound of metal legs on concrete screeched in the air, but neither of them could be bothered to stop.

Oliver pushed her jacket off and leaned down, pulling her pencil skirt up and around her waist before he lifted her, depositing her on the desk. She gasped, the cool metal burning her heated flesh. His hands dropped to her hips, and then lower, kneading her lush thighs, making her whine. He dug his nails into her naked flesh, scratching her - marking her - and she mewled his name at the pull and tug it created in her slick folds. 

Felicity grasped for his jacket to pull him closer, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him in until she felt the hard seam of his jeans her through her panties. Heady sensation exuded from her core as he rubbed against her, and Oliver gripped her thighs, bending her back farther over the desk as his hips rocked into hers.

“Oh god,” she whispered, reaching around him to shove her hands into his back pockets. She squeezed his ass, pushing him against her harder, whimpering, “Yes, yes… Oliver…” 

He buried his face in her throat, soft kisses quickly dissolving into wet marks, his teeth nipping painfully, making her cry out. It felt like he wanted to devour all of her, all at once, like he couldn’t control himself, like he needed everything _now_. 

Felicity dipped her face towards his, nuzzling his cheek with hers. He moaned her name, breathless, and nuzzled her back before angling his head to capture her lips again.

The moan he gave her was simple and quiet, and it shot through her like a bullet, her straight to her foundations.

He felt it too; the desperation, the need, the burning pull between them…

They were done, done ignoring, done pushing each other away.

Felicity’s hands fluttered over him, over his shoulders, across his chest. She shoved his jacket off and he leaned back enough to fling it away. She pulled him back as his hand cupped her jaw, angling her head back so he could reach her throat again. He licked and nipped along her delicate column, his lips and tongue following it down until he reached her collarbone.

“Oh, right there, right there,” she whimpered. Oliver cupped the back of her neck, keeping her still as he bit and sucked on the same spot, sending a spike of pained pleasure straight to her center, making her throb even more. “Oliver, I need…”

“What?” he gasped, dragging his face up her neck, his stubble making her shiver violently. “What do you need?”

The unspoken words hovered between them.

Felicity pushed her hands up his shirt, his skin scorching against her fingers. A surge of desire shot through her at the thought of touching him. She wanted to touch every inch of him, all the muscles she’d stared at for too long, the gentle soft lines that belied his strength… 

She wanted to taste him, to slowly drag her tongue down his abs, his hard cock rubbing between her breasts as she moved down…

A strangled moan escaped her throat and she pushed him back, letting her legs drop as she pulled at his button. Oliver immediately yanked his shirt out of the way as she fumbled with the button and zipper, finally giving, and she shoved his jeans down his hips, hooking her fingers in his boxers, pushing them down next.

She couldn’t believe how hot his skin was, how hot he was against her chilled hands…

What would it feel like to have him over her, blanketing her, thrusting into her…

His thick erection popped free and she wrapped her fingers around him.

“Felicity,” he breathed, watching her hand as she slowly moved up and down. He lifted his shirt higher for a better view, baring more of his hard stomach, and Felicity splayed her other hand across his abs, making him groan.

“Yes,” Oliver whispered and Felicity looked up, watching him.

His eyes were on her hand, his mouth open in a heavy pant as he swayed in time with her movements. When she reached the head of his cock she ran her index finger over the tip, through a tiny drop of precum starting to seep out. He jerked as she spread the wetness, running her finger over it again, dragging her nail over the sensitive slit.

“Fuck, Felicity,” he choked out.

Oliver dropped his shirt, cupping her face, holding her still as he kissed her viciously. She moaned, opening everything for him, and he took advantage, plundering as she moved her hand over his cock where it was pressed between them. He jerked against her again, his hands tightening, and she squeezed him, forcing him to break away with a groan. He pushed his forehead to hers, his hips thrusting into her warm grip.

She breathed his air as he panted, mixing with frantic moans. His erection swelled, growing harder, and she moved her hand faster, squeezing him at the base.

“Oh god,” he moaned. Oliver titled her face up to his again, his lips slanting over hers. He slid one hand down, pushing it between her thighs and she spread them, letting him slip his fingers into her lacy thong.

The back of his fingers slid over her tender clit and she pulled back with a gasp, spreading her legs more and she swore she felt him grow harder in response.

“Look at me, Felicity,” he whispered. Her eyes flew to his. His lids were heavy, his eyes dark, and she knew in that instant they were still on the same page: it was too soon for more… but this…

They could do _this_. 

The instant they made that connection, he thrust his fingers into her. 

“Aah… Oliver,” she whimpered, her eyes fluttering but she couldn’t look away. He pulled his fingers out, and slowly pushed them back in, their eyes on each other. He did it again, slowly, his thumb sliding up in her juices, slicing over her clit, making her shudder. “Yes, yes… right there, there…”

It took her a moment to realize she’d stopped moving altogether, their eyes locked together, his fingers buried deep inside her. With a frenzied gasp, she licked her lips and took her entire fist up and over the head of his cock, squeezing slightly, making him hiss. She did it again, earning a low moan… and again.

His fingers started losing rhythm the faster she moved, and she thrust her hips against his hand, grinding against his fingers, chasing her own release. Neither of them heard the table squeaking where it rubbed on the floor, or the monitors creaking from the movements… they only heard their moans, their quickened breath, the rush of their blood in their ears, the pleasure building as they did what they’d only watched the other do…

Oliver suddenly choked out a groan.

He yanked his fingers out of her and his wet hand covered hers, moving her fist faster over him. He guided her, squeezing her hand tighter and tighter, his hips moving to meet their combined hands. Felicity watched his body start to tighten, his muscles clenching in anticipation, his jaw dropping in a silent cry… 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, falling into her, digging his face into her shoulder as he thrust.

Felicity wrapped her arm around his shoulders, his free hand gripping her bare thigh painfully hard.

“Don’t stop, Oliver,” she whispered, and he whimpered, moving faster. “Come for me, come for me…”

He moved their combined fists in a blur, squeezing…

“Aaah, aahhh, Felicity, oh god, oh… Felicity…” Once, twice more, and then… “Felicity!”

Oliver came, spurting thick ropes of cum all over her. The warm liquid landed on her thighs, between her legs, on her shirt and skirt, and he kept rubbing, more coming out, covering her before he finally started to slow. He moaned, shuddering in her arms, his breathing hot on her chest, his forehead slick with sweat. He let go and she released him as he leaned against her, his half-erect cock sliding through his cum on her thigh…

The need thrumming in her body was starting to burn with veracity, but she ignored it, cradling him against her…If this was it, it was enough. The complete _surrender_ he’d given her, the utter trust he’d shown when he’d lost all control… Felicity sighed, nuzzling her nose against the side of his face, her fingers moving up to card through his hair.

He moved lethargically, his breathing starting to slow as he nuzzled her back. 

And then his hands slid down, hooking into her panties.

“Your turn,” he said, his voice so soft it was barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” she whispered, every inch of her burning to life with eagerness. She lifted herself, letting him tug her panties down as he kneeled before her.

They both watched the black lace smear through the mess he’d left on her.

“Sorry about that,” he said, a relaxed, dopey grin on his face and she grinned at the sight.

“Don’t be. I like it,” she replied and he paused, looking up at her, a new fire igniting in his eyes at her words.

Felicity sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and his eyes slipped down to her mouth; she was surprised when she saw his cock twitch, already growing hard again.

Oliver slid her panties off, slipping them over her heels, dropping them on the floor at his feet. He ran his hands up her legs as he got on his knees, hooking her legs over his shoulders. His hands slipped up and over her thighs, his fingers slipping through his cum shamelessly…

“Oh god,” she moaned. The sight had the need burning inside her grow worse, and she whimpered, the urge to come drumming inside her until it was too much. Felicity gripped the back of his head, pushing his face closer and she thrust up against him, moaning, “Oliver, please, I need you to-”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Oliver’s tongue licked a long, hard trail up across her aching folds to her clit, making her yelp as he nailed her to the table, her ass slipping in the pool of juices from earlier.

“Aah!” she shouted, her back bowing, and Oliver didn’t give her a second to breathe.

He was relentless, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking, hard, and Felicity barely caught herself from falling backwards as he sucked and licked, teasing her clit with hard flicks that had her building quickly. He rubbed his stubble against her wet entrance, enhancing every movement he made, every lick, every taste, every touch… His fingers dug into her hip bones, keeping her down as he did what he wanted, as he tasted her…

Felicity gripped his hair in a tight fist, yearning towards him for more.

Oliver suddenly pushed his face into her, forcing her back an inch on the table, like he was thrusting his chin into her pulsing channel, and she gasped, clenching him closer.

“Oh god, don’t stop,” she babbled. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…” He did it again. “Oh, oh, oh…” Oliver flattened his tongue against her clit, licking it in long, hard strokes, digging his face into her harder and harder… “Ohgodohgodohgodoh… oh…”

Her pleasure peaked and Felicity stiffened on the precipice, her mindless cries filling the room.

Oliver scraped his front teeth down over her clit, and it shoved her over the edge.

Felicity came, a burst of white light exploding across her lids, her back bowing, a loud cry that felt and tasted like Oliver’s name echoing from deep inside her as she flew apart, her hips thrusting wildly, her nails digging into his scalp, the orgasm rolling through her, carrying her away…

Oliver’s gentle licks slowly brought her back down.

Felicity opened her eyes, feeling like someone had replaced all her blood with quicksand. She blinked, finding herself curled over him.

Oliver’s head was still between her legs, her thighs still thrown over his shoulders, his arms wrapped around her hips and he was pressing soft kisses to her mound, her thighs, his face wet with her juices…

“Oliver…” she whispered, her voice thick with exhausted pleasure, and she vaguely heard his quiet, “Shh.”

She wasn’t sure how it happened, or who moved first, but the next thing she was aware of was being curled up on the tiny cot Oliver still insisted on using, his large frame wrapped around her from behind, the gentle hiss of the steam and his steady breathing lulling her to sleep…

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the awesome response to these little ficlets, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying them!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	26. Drabble: Her Ponytail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous asked: hey, i was wondering if you take any olicity prompts? I have a spectacular smutty one. it’s based on a tumblr text post of a girl who, whenever going down on her bf, pulled her hair up and accidentally ‘conditioned’ him so that whenever she would pull her hair up in whatever situation, he would get a boner. I thought this was so funny, and with olicity, GOSH. thank you! x

When Felicity rounded the corner, Oliver cursed.

“Whoa,” Diggle said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Bad night?”

Oliver’s eyes tracked her as she made her way to her desk, wearing a tight black and yellow dress that hugged the curves he’d been cuddling a mere two hours earlier… but it wasn’t the dress that had him glaring at the side of her head. Or the heels that made her calves look absolutely stunning, or the radiant smile she shot both of them before she sat down…

No.

It was her fucking ponytail.

“Not… exactly,” Oliver replied, telling himself to look away, to look anywhere else, but he _couldn’t_.

Her hair was up in a high, polished ponytail, the long ends dusting her upper back. Oliver shuddered despite himself; he knew exactly what that felt like, when she dragged her hair over his stomach, over his thighs, circling his…

Oliver gritted his teeth, shifting his shoulders, his body already responding as his mind provided the fodder for it: 

Felicity on her knees before him, her red-tinged lips wrapped around the head of his cock, her hair up;

Oliver laying back on the bed, gripping the headboard so tightly the wood groaned, watching her head bob up and down on him, her goddamn hair up, the tips brushing him rhythmically;

Felicity kneeling in the shower, the water beating against his back as she cupped his balls, her tongue running up along the underside of his cock, her hair up to keep it out of the water… and from sticking to her lips, to him, to everywhere she touched…

She always put her hair up.

Every.

Single.

Damn.

Time.

And his body _knew it_. 

“Shit,” Oliver murmured under his breath, tearing his eyes away from her. He turned away from both of them, clenching his jaw, his pants already getting too tight, and made his way to his desk.

Oliver sat down and the seam of his pants bit into his hardening cock, making him wince.

Diggle merely watched, and Oliver watched his stupid smirk grow.

“Don’t,” Oliver said.

But he did, and Oliver glared at him.

“That doesn’t look like the fun kind of morning wood there, boss,” Diggle said, fighting the smile threatening to overtake his face. “Felicity get a little rough last night?”

Oliver’s exasperation sent Diggle into a fit of giggles.

Giggles.

The son of a bitch was _giggling_.

“You’re hilarious,” Oliver replied darkly, rolling his chair closer to the desk, shifting to readjust the damn seam that was digging _right into him_.

“I know I’m not needed for this conference call,” Diggle continued. “Maybe I should go get some coffee.”

“No,” Oliver instantly replied. “No, I need you to stay.”.

Because the instant Diggle left, he might attack her, and they _had_ to take this conference call with Prague.

Diggle made a face, shaking his head in amusement, just as Felicity stood up at her desk.

Oliver had done an admirable job keeping his eyes off his fiancee - off that damn _ponytail_ \- but the instant she moved, his eyes snapped back to her without preamble.

Her ponytail swayed, making his cock throb. She grabbed a few folders, heading in and the second she crossed the threshold into his office, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. 

The ponytail had started it, but now it was definitely also the dress that hugged every inch of her… and the black heels that made her hips _sway_ , only making her ponytail sway even more, and…

God, she was _gorgeous_.

And she was _his_.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go get that coffee,” Diggle said. Felicity stopped, turning to watch him leave - he specifically shut his office door, sending him a smirk, and Oliver wanted to roll his eyes…

Except they were currently glued to her ass.

His mouth watered, his cock hardening even more.

“Okay then,” Felicity said, turning back to him. “You’re due for Prague, Mr. Queen.”

_Mr. Queen._

It was a jest between them, ever since they’d gotten together, ever since they’d managed to make this work thing actually manageable.

But now it only made his skin feel extra hot as he watched her mouth, imagining her lips forming the sound of his name, the sight of her tongue as she licked the head of his cock, swirling around him before dipping into the…

“Oliver!”

“Yes, what? Sorry, I…”

Felicity stood next to him, eyebrows raised, leaning over the desk… her ponytail swaying _right there_.

How in the hell could _hair_ make him feel like this? What was wrong with him?

But when it was _her_ hair… the things she did when she put _her_ hair up, how perfect her mouth was, how tight her fingers were, how warm and when she scraped her teeth…

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered harshly, pointing at the phone and he blinked. “Say your name.”

“What?” Oh, shit, she’d dialed the phone already and he was on. “Oh, right, uh… Hello, everyone, Oliver Queen… here.”

Felicity’s eyes narrowed. As a host of other people started chiming in, she hit mute. 

“Oliver,” she said, patiently. “What is wrong with you?”

His eyes found her hair almost instantly as he said, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

She studied him for a second, and his eyes switched to hers when the realization hit her.

“The hair again? Really?”

“I…” He shrugged. “I can’t…”

“Are you… right now?” He nodded helplessly. He half-expected her to get annoyed, maybe even angry, he wasn’t sure, probably because it was distracting from… stuff. Like work.

Instead, she looked intrigued.

_Oh, that wasn’t good._

Felicity puckered her lips, raising her eyebrows as she leaned over, staring at the very obvious bulge in his pants.

“So you’re saying…” Felicity said, the chatter from the phone quickly fading into white noise as she leaned over, dragging her fingers through her ponytail before pulling it over her shoulder - his eyes followed her every movement, and he moved in his chair, now finding that seam a hell of a lot more amiable. “Every time I put my hair up… you get hard?”

“Yes,” he whispered baldly, nodding without shame, and she bit her lip; it only made him harder.

“Because it reminds you of…” she continued, draping herself over his desk, the added height of her heels making her ass stick out beautifully. She brought up the end of her ponytail and touched it to her mouth. “Me sucking you off?”

Oliver’s response was a groan.

“My lips wrapped around your hard cock, sucking…” she said, her voice low and husky. Oliver was helpless, his mouth open in a pant, his eyes on her mouth, imagining the very things she was talking about. “And licking, taking you so deep that when I swallow-”

“Mr. Queen, are you still there?”

The voice made Oliver jump and he swung his hand out towards the phone with zero coordination, nearly sending it careening of the desk. Thank god Felicity was faster because she caught it, her thumb smoothly releasing the mute button.

“Uh, yes,” Oliver croaked. “I apologize, we seem to be having some slight…” 

His eyes ran up her arm, over her slim bare shoulder and up to her mouth where she ran her tongue around the edge of her lips.

She was totally fucking with him.

“Difficulties,” he finished lamely.

Oliver glared at her and she grinned, scrunching her nose at him.

“Alright, well, we should get started on the F-38 report, it references-”

Felicity smoothly stood up, as if she hadn’t just been splayed all over his desk, and slid a folder towards him, opening it, pointing at the F-38 report.

“Pay attention,” she whispered cheekily.

She winked and he glared even more, making her chuckle.

But she didn’t go to her desk.

No, she dragged one of the empty chairs across from his desk out so he could see her fully, and she sat down, hiking her dress up a bit to cross her legs…

God, he loved her legs.

She reached for another folder, setting it on her knee, and licked her finger, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. She wrapped her lips around the tip before using the now very wet finger to open the manila.

Oliver didn’t dare blink in case he missed anything else she did.

It was a long… long… _long_ conference call, and Oliver remembered maybe three percent of it.

It was boring.

Tedious…

… because Felicity sat right out of reach, her entire mission that morning to tease the hell out of him.

He spent far too long watching her hand as her fingers danced over herself, up her arm and over a breast; she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, spreading them for him…

And the worst: she constantly touched her mouth, licked her lips; she ran her tongue across her bottom lip, her finger following the trail it left, her eyes on him…

It felt like an eternity and a quick second all in one before the call finally started to wind down.

“Oh thank god,” Oliver breathed, bowing his head.

“Oh, no, wait,” someone said. “We had one more addition to the…”

Oliver groaned and thankfully Felicity was there to mute the phone again before anyone heard him. He tried to glance up at her to show his appreciation, but he got distracted… by her sitting on the edge of his desk, her legs crossed.

“Oh god, Felicity, I don’t think I can…”

Oliver’s hands found her legs, her supple skin so soft. He kneaded her thighs, forcing her to open them for his hungry gaze and eager fingers. She gasped, her fingers carding through his hair, her head falling back when he caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh… but he barely got a hint of how wet she was when stopped him, her hands cupping his face, forcing him to look up at her.

“Stand up.” Her voice was husky, but all the humor from before was gone.

“What?”

Felicity slid off the desk and she gripped his jacket, forcing him up. He went along with her, wincing when the stifling hardness in his pants ached with the movement. She spun them slowly and pushed him back against his desk, taking his seat.

“Undo your pants,” she whispered.

Oliver blanched, unable to comprehend that this was actually happening… and then he was moving too fast, unbuttoning and unzipping them as quickly as he could. His boxer briefs were the only thing keeping his cock from bouncing free and when she licked her lips in anticipation, her eyes on him, he shoved them down, freeing his raging hard-on. 

Felicity wrapped her hand around him, leaning in to blow a stream of cool air over the tip followed by a hot gust and he gave her a whiny whimper.

“Shh,” she said, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. “We don’t have much time.”

“Oh, fuck, Felicity,” he groaned and she leaned in, her mouth taking in as much of his length as she could.

Oliver’s fingers dug into his desk, his hips immediately bucking up to meet her hot mouth. She started a quick bobbing motion, her tongue swirling, her teeth scraping along with each thrust, her hands splaying across his hips bones for leverage as she sucked, and sucked…

God, he knew he didn’t need much, he’d been ready for the last half hour, but this was… this was _amazing_. She tasted and touched him skillfully, playing him exactly how she wanted, knowing exactly what he needed, how he liked it, what made him groan, what made him cry out her name…

Oliver’s soft moans and urgent cries started filling the office and when she moved faster, Oliver’s hand latched onto her ponytail - that goddamn, fucking ponytail - urging her on, his eyes on her mouth, the sight of her lips around his wet cock pushing him higher and higher…

A sharp tingling started at the base of his spine, and quickly started burning hot, rapidly spiraling outwards in hot pulses that made him grip her hair tighter and grit his teeth, his low cry slowly growing louder and louder as she sucked, and licked, and bobbed, the sensations too much as she touched him everywhere, _sucked_ on him everywhere….

The pressure inside him exploded.

“Oh fuck!” Oliver groaned as he came, spurting into her mouth. She sucked him in deeper, making him cry out, “Oh god, Felicity!” as she swallowed every last bit, sucking him dry.

He was… _done_.

Felicity licked him clean, thoroughly, before leaning back, licking her lips.

Oliver watched her through drugged eyes when she wiped her mouth with her index finger, and if that wasn’t the hottest damn thing…

This woman was going to be the death of him.

“Your call is still going,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice as she stood, patting his chest, moving to get around him. Her hair was skewed from his ministrations, her mouth puffy and used…

Oliver grabbed her before she could get too far, pulling her into his arms, his lips slamming into hers.

Felicity moaned loudly, her fingers curling in his jacket, yanking him closer to her as he kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue. The kiss was anything but simple and innocent, and soon Felicity was shoving him back, rubbing her body against his, both of their hands moving down to pull her dress up so she could crawl on top of him when someone on the phone said… something.

_Something…_

“Mr. Queen? Did you get-”

Oliver growled and grabbed for the phone. He missed it a few times before he found the receiver.

“Something’s come up, I need to go.”

And then he hung up and pushed off his desk, leaning down to shove Felicity’s dress up all the way before picking her up. She wrapped her legs around him as he swung them around to the sound of her surprised squeal of delight, depositing her on the desk.

“Maybe I should wear my hair like this every day again,” Felicity said, her words ending in a gasp when his lips found her pulse point.

“Damn it, Felicity,” he groaned, rubbing his already hardening cock against her wet panties before pushing her back, draping himself over her ready body, smothering her giggles with another searing kiss.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun with this one. :)
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/120676913449/hey-i-was-wondering-if-you-take-any-olicity)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	27. Mutual Release: Oliver & Felicity, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #6 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. The morning after…

Felicity woke to a heavy hand caressing her side.

She tried to blink herself awake, tried to remember where she was, but she felt like she’d just closed her eyes a moment ago. Sleep weighed her down, giving her no choice but to _feel_.

He moved slowly, lethargically, like he wanted to take his time, take as long as he needed to explore every inch of her. His fingers dipped over her ribs, running up under her arm and any cognizant thought was quickly swept away when his hand slid over her breast, cupping it gently. A tiny moan slipped out of her, and his hand tightened in response.

He gave her a breathless, “Felicity,” his body yearning towards hers, and then he flicked his thumb over her hardening nipple. She keened for him, desire whipping through her, gathering in the pit of her stomach as she started realizing the full ramifications of exactly where she was.

She was with Oliver.

She was in bed with Oliver; it was his hands tweaking her nipple, making her whimper, his hardening body behind her.

Her mind was moving too slowly, still bogged with sleep, trying to connect the dots.

They’d fallen asleep - _together_ \- after… 

A deep-seated flush rushed through her, warming her from the inside out, as she remembered their rushed kisses, the urgency burning the air between them. The second she’d realized what accepting this meant, she’d needed _more_ ; she’d needed to feel him, taste him, _have_ him. Felicity shivered, remembering how it’d felt finally wrapping her fingers around his erection, his hand covering hers, showing her just how to touch him… how it’d felt when he’d come all over her. She hadn’t been lying when she said she liked it, but it wasn’t just being covered in his essence, it was the abandon with which he’d come; he’d let go, giving her everything, and it had been.. 

_Everything._

And then he’d made her come so hard she’d literally seen stars. 

They’d both given in, finally, after so long of fighting it.

And she didn’t regret it.

_She didn’t regret it._

Anxious hope filled her chest as what that meant filled her sleep-addled mind.

They were in this, and it wasn’t just her…

It was both of them.

The promise of what that meant swept through her, leaving her lightheaded and dizzy.

_This was happening._

He abandoned her breast, slowly moving down…

Felicity’s lips parted in a panting moan and she held her breath as he slowly made his way down her abdomen. She grappled for something to hold on to, but there was nothing but air. Oliver was directly behind her, pressed right up against her on the tiny cot. He placed a wet kiss on her bare shoulder and she shivered.

She didn’t feel how twisted her top was, or how sticky her thighs were, or how very small the cot they laid on really was… all she felt were his fingers hooking under her skirt that had migrated back down after they’d fallen asleep, felt his nails scratching at her skin as he tugged it up, his eagerness to touch her in his every movement.

Felicity lifted her hips to help, biting her bottom lip when the chilled foundry air touched her damp sex.

He’d left her panties out in the main room.

Felicity hooked her leg back around his, opening herself up to him.

He let out a shaky breath, cupping her sex, making her shudder.

“Oliver…” She wrapped one hand around his wrist, the other fisting in the pillow as she arched towards him for more. His fingers slowly circled her clit, his middle finger dipping down into her growing wetness, spreading it all over. “Yes…”

She was in a foggy cloud, where the only thing that mattered was Oliver and what he was doing. Sensation washed through her, in gentle slow waves lapping at the sensitive edges of her mind.

Oliver slowly rolled his hips into hers and she felt the very hard evidence of his cock pressing right against her ass. He’d taken his jeans off, she realized, but still wore his boxers. They were thin, and he was so hot, pulsing against her… Felicity let go of his wrist and reached back, cupping the back of his neck, pressing his face closer as he moved; she thrust back, making the cot beneath them groan.

His finger touched her clit.

“Oh!” she yelped, a shock of knife-edged pleasure slicing through her. “Sensitive, sensitive…”

“Sorry,” he whispered, moving his fingers slowly again, tenderly. His gentle ministrations sent tiny sparks shooting through her body. His lips found her earlobe and he sucked it into his mouth, making her whine, before he nipped at it.

“I was thinking,” he said, his warm breath dancing over her wet skin; goosebumps erupted down her neck and shoulders. His hips still thrust lazily against her, pushing her against his hand. “About how hard you came earlier.”

Felicity whimpered.

“The beautiful sounds you made,” he said, his voice so low and breathy it tugged at her center. “I want to hear them again.”

“Oliver, please,” Felicity said, shaking her head, not sure if it was because she couldn’t possibly have another orgasm like that in her or because she needed it just as badly as he did.

He pressed his fingers against her wet entrance again, her juices coating him. He slipped the tip of a finger inside her, for just a second, before he pulled out and covered her clit.

“Ah!”

Felicity’s nails dug into the back of his head, but he didn’t relent, rubbing her gently. She whined his name as he slowly started to move with more fervor. Despite herself, despite the feeling that was it too much, that she was too sensitive, she spread her legs, arching off the cot.

“Oliver…”

“Come for me, Felicity,” he murmured, his voice deep with concentration. His beard scratched harshly at the back of neck, and she pushed back against him for more. He pressed his face into her hair, against her scalp and neck… 

“Oh god,” Felicity whimpered, clutching the pillow so tightly her nails ached. She held onto it and him, her hips rising to meet his hand as he rubbed her clit, moving faster and faster, his fingers so wet they glided right over it, heightening the sharp sensations starting to build within her. “Pleeeeasssee, Oliver, I can’t…”

“I want to hear you,” he grunted. “Felicity, I want to hear you again…”

“Oooh,” she moaned, her voice growing louder.

“More.”

Felicity didn’t feel his other arm slipping from under the pillow until it was underneath her where he banded it across her chest. His large hand grabbed her breast, kneading it, throwing the sensations inside her into overdrive as he moved his hand faster, rubbing her clit just like she did… just like she’d shown him…

“Oh god yes,” she gasped. “Please, please…”

Faster, faster…

Her cries grew louder, throatier, the release building inside her was almost too much, but she didn’t want him to stop.

“Don’t stop, don’t…”

“I want to hear you,” he whispered, his voice uneven with his harsh movements, both of their heavy pants filling the small cocoon they were in, echoing the squeaking groans of the cot. “Please…”

“Yes!” Felicity cried, all her concentration on his hand between her legs. It felt like a volcano building inside her, a burst of intense heat so hot she felt it scorching along her veins. She heard the moan-filled cries, barely aware it was her making them… 

It built, hotter and hotter…

“Oh god, oh god!” Felicity shouted, her hips stilling for a split second and Oliver’s hand moved faster. “Yes! Yes! I’m coming, I’m com-”

The heat inside her shattered and Felicity’s back bowed right off the cot, a deep cry filling the foundry. Wave after wave of blistering pleasure pulsed through her body. She undulated against his fingers, riding them, her hips jerking against his hand in sporadic thrusts. His fingers slid along the sides of her clit and he squeezed, making her entire body jerk with the violence of the aftershock it created.

Felicity fell back on the mattress with a gasp, her body slowly coming down, the heady pleasure leaving her thoroughly numb. 

“Oliver,” she breathed. “Oliver, Oliver…”

Oliver’s hand stayed between her legs, keeping her anchored.

“Oh god…” she breathed. “Wow…” 

He moved slowly, spreading his fingers through the hot juices starting to drip down her leg, and she whimpered pathetically, “Too much, too much,” moving to close her legs…

“Easy,” he whispered softly, pressing her leg back up, spreading her again… silently asking her permission.

Felicity opened for him, barely able to open her eyes, trusting him to do what he would. He spread her wet heat all over her thighs until they were slick, and he pressed her back onto her side, his arm still banded over her chest, cradling her from behind.

And then he shoved his boxers down, his cock popping free, and she felt his hot head spread a heavy bead of precum across her bare ass.

A shot of anticipation mixed with trepidation attacked her gut.

“Oliver?” she whispered. “Are you…”

Oliver’s hips thrust against her and her words choked off when his cock slid up between her cheeks.

“Felicity…” he groaned from deep within his chest, a soft curse slipping out. He moved against her again, like he couldn’t help himself, and she gasped, grabbing at the pillow, holding onto it as he thrust against her ass…

He was so close…

He just had to move down a little, change his angle, so he could thrust into her.

Felicity wanted to want to stop him. She did. It was too soon, this shouldn’t be how it happened, they shouldn’t… it would be too much.

What if it ruined everything they’d spend the last few years building?

What if it didn’t work out?

What if he… 

Felicity wanted to care, she wanted to pay heed to the silent fears running in the back of her mind, but she didn’t.

Because she just didn’t _care_.

Just like she hadn’t cared when she’d touched herself outside his room, when he’d smelled her arousal on her fingers in the kitchen the next morning; just like when she’d asked him to touch himself and she’d wanted nothing more than to walk over and climb on top of him and take him deep inside her…

But it had been too soon.

Right?

Too much, too soon…

Oliver sighed, and grasped himself and Felicity tightened in anticipation.

Her inner walls _clenched_ with the need to feel him _inside her_.

“Yes,” she whispered, prepared to feel his cock sliding through her wetness, over her tender clit, her juices coating him before he…

But he didn’t do that.

Instead, he pushed himself between her very wet thighs and she suddenly remembered that he had spread her wetness before and now she knew why.

He didn’t…

He wasn’t…

Felicity’s eyes snapped open at the realization… and was shocked when a thin sheen of tears blurred her vision as a deep well of disappointment and sadness - _rejection_ \- abruptly carved a hole in her chest.

He wasn’t…

No, _this_ was what they wanted, what they both wanted… this is what they had been doing, because it was the only thing they _could_ do.

But…

Her mind flashed back to when she’d come downstairs earlier, the look on his face… how he’d grabbed her without a second’s pause, yanked her into his arms, kissed her with so much reckless passion that everything inside her had tingled…

They’d given in, they’d chosen…

Hadn’t they?

Felicity shoved down the foolishness rising in her chest and instead spread her legs for him. This moment, that’s what this was about, _this moment_. She couldn’t deal with the black hole of confusion and need and emotions she didn’t want to name starting to swirl inside her.

His cock slid between her wet thighs, getting caught for a moment and she spread them wider, letting him thrust all the way in.

Felicity gasped at the sensation, at the tug he created between her thighs, on her sex, letting the sensations take over.

It was different, in a very good way. She’d never done this before, never used any other part of her body for this…

Felicity ignored the way her sex clenched rhythmically, ignored the urge to flip over and lift her leg, let him slide in, ignored all of it because that wasn’t what this was.

“Oh god, Felicity,” Oliver moaned, bringing her back to him, his hand gripping her hip. “Close your legs… can you…”

Felicity squeezed her thighs shut and his fingers dug into her hip bone. She squeezed hard, clenching his cock between her wet thighs and he slowly pulled back before thrusting in again. A noise she’d never heard echoed from his throat, his head falling onto her shoulder, his forehead digging into her shoulder blade as he started a soft, uneven thrusting.

“Oliver,” she whispered. She reached behind her, gripping his hip as he thrust his cock between her thighs. “Yes.”

“Feli… city,” he hissed. “God, you… you feel so good, so fucking good…”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding, thrusting back, squeezing him again and he moaned, and she let the sound anchor her to the moment, to him, to what he was feeling, to how he felt sliding against her. “Yes, don’t stop… don’t stop…”

He didn’t.

He kept thrusting, his cock sliding between her wet thighs, and she felt herself responding. Her wetness seeped out, drenching her thighs even more, making them more slick, giving him more to… fuck her.

The thought sent a course of need surging through her, the meaning of it not lost on her…

Because he hadn’t gone any further than this.

Oliver’s pelvis started slapping against her ass, the sound filling the room, playing off his growing moans and deep growls.

“Fuck me, Oliver,” she whispered and he let out an agonized cry. “Do it, fuck me…”

“Oh… god,” he moaned, his hips moving faster. He gripped her hip tighter, his fingers digging into her so hard she knew she’d have bruises come morning, but she delighted in it, urging him on, digging hers into his him. “Felicity… Felicity…”

“Oliver,” she choked out, her voice cracking. “Don’t stop…”

“Oh god, oh Felicity,” Oliver yelped, his back bowing, his thrusts growing harder, slamming into her from behind. “Yes, Felicity, I’m…”

Oliver thrust all the way in with a sharp cry and he came all over her, again, his cum coating her thighs.

Felicity looked down, watching him come between her legs, watching the thick white liquid spurt out of him, onto her, onto the cot and onto the floor… 

He was marking her…without claiming her.

Felicity shut her eyes, biting the tip of her tongue as Oliver moaned her name again, nuzzling his face into her shoulder, his erratic breathing hitting her sweat-covered skin, making her shiver…

They didn’t move for a long moment, and Felicity found herself only able to concentrate on his strong arm wrapped around her, his chest pressed against her back, his breathing starting to slow and how it blew on her hair, tickling her skin… and the warmth of his cum starting to dry on her thighs.

Anything else was… too much.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, not moving, but she eventually felt his breathing even out, become more steady… and then his arm grew slack.

He was asleep.

Felicity bit her tongue again, shaking her head.

What was she doing? What the hell was she doing?

She knew better.

_She knew better_.

Oh god, she should have left earlier… she should have driven home, taken care of herself, avoided this _entire thing_. She knew - _she knew_ \- what would happen, it had been the entire point of them avoiding each other, but… 

But she hadn’t been able to. God, it’d been like something inside her just woke up last night, snapping to life the instant she’d given in, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself from wanting more… and taking it.

Except there was nothing to take.

This was… this.

It wasn’t anything else.

_It couldn’t be._

She felt like someone had just opened her chest and removed her heart with rusty forceps.

Something that had started out so simply, so innocently even, was suddenly morphing into so much more. She knew she’d had feelings for him, that it was something past platonic, but this…

This was too much.

To have him, but not _have_ him?

Felicity moved slowly.

She unwrapped his arm and lifted herself off the cot, ignoring the way his cum slid down her legs. He sighed, and she paused, her heart stopping when he moved, but he didn’t wake. He reached for her, for the space she had been in, but when he didn’t find her, he grabbed onto the pillow instead.

Felicity forced herself to turn away, not giving herself a moment to think.

She couldn’t.

Felicity made her way to the bathroom and cleaned herself up, not looking in the mirror. She righted her clothes, knowing that this outfit was a definite goner. It was covered in cum, both wet and dry, from both of them; it wasn’t worth the effort to clean. 

She didn’t want to keep it.

Felicity felt the irrational urge to take it off right then and there and throw it away.

Ignoring the deep churning in her chest, she emptied her bladder, cleaning up the mess between her thighs as best she could. She spent a few minutes righting her hair and washing her hands. Still avoiding the mirror, she wiped at her eyes until no more smeared mascara and eyeliner came off.

She could only imagine what she looked like.

She had to get out of there.

Oliver was waiting for her when she opened the door.

“Oh,” she said, pausing. He’d fixed himself up as much as he could. He’d found his jeans again - they looked nearly as bad as her skirt - and a clean shirt. “You’re awake.”

He smiled softly. “You weren’t there.”

“I was a little messy,” Felicity said with a tight smile. 

Oliver actually _blushed_ , ducking his head.

Felicity had to look away, the intimacy in his response too much. “I’m gonna go.” 

Oliver froze. “What?”

“I’m gonna go. Home.” The forced levity in her tone was like a chain wrapped around her neck. “You know, where the clean clothes live. Do you know where my shoes are? I didn’t see them by the, uh, cot.” 

“Felicity, I don’t…” He took a step towards her. “Don’t you want to at least… talk?”

“I think anything past ‘we just did that and it was very nice’ is sort of redundant, don’t you think?”

“Felicity-” 

“Oliver, let’s not make this a thing.” He frowned. “If we make it a thing, it becomes a thing that we have to… make, and… What I’m trying to say is it happened, and if it happens again, great, and if it doesn’t… great. Let’s not complicate it.”

Oliver stared at her, and Felicity had to ignore the burning desire to fidget under his scrutiny.

Ever since that morning in her kitchen, his gaze on her had changed - there was more knowledge than before, more understanding, something deeper… and he was trying to use to see _more_.

It was surprisingly easy to shove the feelings that had been overwhelming her a moment ago down - out of sight, out of mind. The moment of weakness she’d felt earlier, when she’d been ready to throw everything out the window and let anything happen, was gone, replaced with an odd numbness. The more she spoke, the more she darkened the lines they weren’t going to cross. This was the right thing to do, for both of them. Anything past _this_ … anything past what they’d just done, anything that took it to the next level, that cemented whatever had grown between them…

It couldn’t happen.

There was too much at risk to go any further.

Whatever he saw in her eyes was his confirmation.

“So… what,” Oliver said skeptically. “We’re… friends, with fringe benefits?”

The words walloped her in the chest and she did a fine job not showing it.

“I…” Felicity forced herself to smile brightly, nodding. “If we’re gonna call it something, sure.”

He furrowed his brow, taking a step towards her. “Felicity, I don’t-” 

“Oliver, stop,” Felicity said, shaking her head. “I don’t wanna make this a thing, okay? I want to go home. And shower. And go to bed. Okay?”

“Felicity…” Oliver opened his mouth, but nothing came. He had nothing to say… and that was just the way it should be. His jaw snapped shut and he gave her a little nod. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Felicity was moving for him before she knew what she was doing, and by the time she realized it she was already at his side, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. He almost - _almost_ \- turned to catch her lips with his, but he stopped himself, pinching his lips into a thin line, his eyes fixed on something over her shoulder when she looked up at him.

“My shoes?”

“Your desk.”

Felicity found them, lying underneath her jacket on the ground. Her keys were still in her jacket pocket and she pulled them out after slipping it on, turning to see Oliver standing in the space between their two chairs, his hands loose at his sides, his eyes unreadable as he watched her get ready.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, heading for the stairs.

“Yeah. Bye.”

Felicity waited until she was several blocks away from the foundry to let the single hot tear burn a path down her cheek.

It was the only one she allowed herself. 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edit: This story continued in[Mutual Release](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4090495)**
> 
> There was originally going to be more in this ficlet, but the emotional scope of this little series grew on me, so I split it. I wanted to try a different angle, explore a different side of Olicity, and that required a bit more space and time. And still, a few ficlets isn’t enough to fully grasp it - I hope it still came across well enough!
> 
> Two more parts planned!
> 
> Thank you for the response to this little series, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying them!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	28. Serious Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Prompt - Anonymous asked: Prompt: Olicity laughing and talking during sex. I want smut but also humor and just quirky side of them ^.^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for light anal play.

Felicity arched her back, digging her fingers into Oliver’s chest for balance as she rode him. Her head fell back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, changing her angle, thrusting down on him, taking him a little deeper.

“Oooh,” she whispered, concentrating on the sensations starting to blossom in her center. They slowly expanded out in tingling waves and she moaned, arching her back more, changing the angle again.

“Felicity,” Oliver groaned.

His hands gripped her waist, pushing her down harder on him, his hips rising to meet her, the wet sound of their thrusts filling the room.

Felicity licked her lips and looked down at him. His eyes were dark and steady, staring at where he disappeared inside her. it was erotic as hell, watching him watch her move, imagining what he was seeing, feeling his body tighten in response in a need that matched her own.

Oliver gripped her waist tighter, his jaw clenching, and she knew he was getting close.

Felicity leaned over him, bracing herself on his shoulder with one hand, raising herself on her knees slightly to slide her other hand between her legs. His eyes flew up to hers quickly, his breathing getting more frantic, his fingers digging into her flesh.

Her fingers found her clit, and she moaned, immediately moving them in quick, short circles, amplifying the pleasure radiating through her.

“Yes,” he sighed, nodding frantically. He planted his feet and used the momentum to thrust into her harder, making her cry out sharply, her fingers moving faster. “Yes, just like that… God, you’re so gorgeous, Felicity… don’t stop.”

“Oliver…”

“Don’t stop,” he grunted, thrusting harder and she whimpered, nodding, rubbing faster… “Don’t… don… Oh, oh… shi-”

Felicity’s eyes flew open with enough time to see Oliver’s face screw up in an unpleasant grimace before he sneezed.

Her eyes snapped shut just as he _sneezed_ all over her face.

Felicity froze in shock, the peak she’d been riding so desperately disappearing just as quickly as it had come on.

“Oliver, what the-”

… and then he sneezed _again_ , making the bed rock with the force of it, jostling him where he was still inside her. Felicity made a sound of disgust as she grabbed at his stomach for balance, turning her head with a, “Oliver, ew!”

Felicity shoved off him, wiping at her face, when he started shaking underneath her. She opened her eyes, her mouth open in disbelief, to the sight of Oliver’s hands covering his face, his body shaking with silent laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands and the laughter choking his words. “I didn’t… mean…”

He burst into another fit of giggles.

“Oliver,” she said, wiping her face clean before poking him in the chest. “It’s not funny, you just sneezed in my face. In the middle of sex!”

The words only made him laugh more.

“It’s not funny, Oliver!” Felicity said, his giggling - the idiot was full-on _giggling_ \- making her smile, which was entirely unacceptable because he’d just _sneezed_ in her face.

She poked his chest again, hard, making him jerk.

“Hey!” he said through his laughter, and she stomach, and then his sides. His arms dropped to protect himself, revealing the most glorious smile she’d ever seen grace his face. She kept poking him and he giggled as she tickled him, and it made her start to laugh when delightful little noises started leaving him. “Stop it!”

“Only when you apologize for sneezing in my face. I was just about to come, you jerk.” Oliver snorted out another laugh and she glared at him playfully. “It’s not funny!” He couldn’t stop and it only made her laugh more. “Oliver, come on, you’re going to-” He slid right out of her on the next round of giggles and she said, “Now look what you’ve done!”

“I’m sorry,” he said between laughs and Felicity smacked his chest, rolling off him. Oliver wiped tears from his eyes, and she shook her head in disbelief at how much amusement he was getting from this. He reached for her. “Come here.”

“I don’t think so, buddy,” Felicity said, rolling to get up, the grin in her voice belying the seriousness of her words. “If you think - hey!”

Oliver grabbed her by the waist and yanked back on top of him. He quickly rolled to the other side, trapping her beneath him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. Her grin matched his as he quickly rearranged her legs, spreading her open for him. He settled between her open legs, spreading her even more.

“Well, see, I’ve got this guy who just giggled himself right out of me,” Felicity replied, and Oliver’s entire body quaked with laughter. “And since he’s obviously not taking this very seriously…” Felicity waved her fingers. “I’m gonna go finish what he started.”

She moved to push him off her but he grabbed her arms, pinning her down, rocking his hips against hers, his cock slipping through her wetness. Her breath hitched and he grinned.

“Is that so?” The sound of his voice, full of carefree laughter and slowly growing huskier with arousal, was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. “Can I watch?”

“Nope,” Felicity replied breathlessly, shaking her head. “You lost that privilege, mister.”

Oliver quirked an eyebrow. “How do I win it back?”

“By taking this seriously.”

“Right. Okay.” Oliver released her arms and braced himself over her, schooling his face into a very serious expression. “I’m serious.”

“Good.” Felicity tried to mirror his look, her lips trembling with the urge to smile. “Serious.”

“Now we’re serious,” Oliver said, his face twitching with barely restrained laughter.

Felicity nodded. “Good. Serious is good. This is serious business, Oliver.”

Oliver _almost_ cracked a smile on that one, but he held.

“Serious business,“ he said, nodding.

They stared at each other their faux-serious expressions, waiting for the other to crack…

“Can I watch you now?” Oliver asked and Felicity laughed. Her head fell back, the sound coming from deep in her stomach.

Oliver’s laughter matched her own, and he dug his face into her neck, peppering her with tiny kisses, his hips rocking against hers, his thick length pressing up between her wet puffy lips, slipping over her clit. Felicity tightened her legs around him, holding him closer.

“One condition,” she said, cradling his face. She traced a finger over his grinning lips. He tongue snuck out, licking her finger and she scrunched her face at him. “It’s gonna have to be later.” His face fell so quick and hard that she snorted. “Because you owe me an amazing orgasm right now.”

Oliver inhaled quickly. “Just one?”

He lifted himself up on his arms, towering over her, arching his hips into hers more fully. The full length of his cock rubbed up and over her clit. She bit her bottom lip, and she delighted in the dark slip of lust that clouded his eyes.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Oliver,” she replied, using him as an anchor to lift herself up and rub against him in short, even strokes. Pleasure spiraled through her at the pressure on her clit and she closed her eyes, her nails digging into his biceps. “I want to come so hard,” she said, opening her eyes to meet his, “That I forget my name.”

“Is that a challenge, Mrs. Queen?”

“Oh, yes. A challenge. A very, very serious challenge.”

Felicity giggled.

Oliver grinned, his hooded eyes on her, making the pleasure inside her blossom quicker. “Challenge accepted.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said just as he leaned back and thrust into her to the hilt.

Felicity gasped, her eyes fluttering shut at the sudden intrusion, at the sudden fullness of him being back inside her without warning. He slid out slowly and thrust back in _hard_ , pushing her up on the bed slightly. She gripped his arms to keep herself in place, already feeling the slight burn of her release starting to build again.

“Oliver…”

He pulled out of her.

Felicity’s eyes flew open in confusion as the bed dipped and he leaned over her, opening their nightstand drawer. Felicity lifted her head to see what he was grabbing, but it disappeared in his hand.

Oliver looked back at her, a wicked gleam in his eye, his wet cock standing tall before him. “Turn around.”

Felicity quirked an eyebrow, watching him retreat to give her room. The last time those words had left his mouth floated through he head, and she bit the tip of her tongue at the memory. Oliver had gotten very adept at reading her, and knowing when to move her, twist her, do whatever he wanted; he wasn’t afraid to tell her what to do, but he normally just did it…

Except when they were drunk and both were very insistent about having sex to end their night.

The words, “Turn around,” had come out in a heavy slur, and when he’d tried to get on the bed behind her…

Felicity giggled.

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you thinking?”

“Oh,” Felicity said, rolling over onto all fours. She looked back at him. “I was just remembering when Roy pushed you enough that you both finished a couple bottles of cherry vodka.”

“Oh god.” He grimaced. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

Felicity laughed. “No. Because I will never forget what it was like to have Oliver Queen, Mr. Suave Debonair Guy, slip on the edge of the bed and fall face-first into my ass.”

Oliver chuckled. “And thank god that’s a story we can never tell our grandchildren.”

“Well…”

“Felicity.” 

Oliver swatted her ass, and she laughed.

“But it’s definitely one I can tell your sister,” she replied and Oliver made a noise of exasperation. “What? You honestly didn’t expect me to not tell _someone_.”

“Evil little…”

The rest of Oliver’s reply was to swat her other cheek, and she let out a little noise at the quick shot of pain, lifting her backside for more access. He dropped whatever he’d grabbed from the nightstand on the bed and kneaded her ass, spreading her cheeks to the point of stinging. She whimpered, the humor from a moment ago quickly melting into something much more carnal. Felicity bowed her head, her channel pulsing with the need to feel him inside her again.

Oliver leaned over her, picking up the toy he’d grabbed, pressing a soft kiss to the center of her back.

“Mmm,” she sighed, the soft touch making her shiver, and she shivered more with each inch he gained as he dragged his face down her spine. When he reached her lower back, he brushed his stubble against the sensitive area, making her shudder. “Please…”

Oliver pressed something cool and metallic against her nether lips. Felicity gasped. He kept his face pressed to her back as he coated the bullet vibrator in her juices. He slid it up along her lips, over her clit, and then back down where he slid it up inside her, making her jerk.

It was warm now, and so wet…

Oliver pressed his lips to one of her ass cheeks before he nipped it and then he pulled back, spreading her again. Felicity trembled with anticipation, her arousal dripping down her inner thighs. She spread her legs for him, giving him more access.

He pressed the tip of the vibrator to her puckered back hole. Oliver dipped his other hand into her wet sex, wetting his fingers and spread her juices up until he reached where the tight entrance. Felicity moaned as his fingers massaged her there, clenching the bed sheets in tight fists.

“Ready?” he asked, slipping the vibrator over her hole again. But he didn’t wait; instead, he slowly pressed it in and Felicity cried out at the small intrusion. 

He didn’t turn it on.

Oliver’s fingers were wet and sticky when he gripped her hips, lifting her up higher on her knees. The head of his cock slipped through her wetness, sliding across her clit.

Oliver gripped himself and slid into her aching channel.

“Aaaahh…” Felicity moaned.

He filled her, and the pressure of him inside her combined with the vibrator was heady, leaving her gasping for air, her walls pulsing around him, making him curse. His fingers dug into her hips tightly, not moving for a moment, and a wicked sense of pride swept through her.

Felicity clenched her inner walls around, _squeezing_ him, and he cursed louder.

“Felicity… stop. I won’t last if you…”

She did it again, and he whispered, “Oh, fuck.”

“No,” she replied. “A challenge is a challenge, Mr. Queen.”

Oliver snorted and pulled out, thrusting back in with so much force she slipped off her elbows, letting him go even deeper. She cried out, her voice muffled in the mattress, and he did it again, and again, forcing her to grapple for something to hold on to as he thrust into her from behind.

“Hold on,” he grunted. He twisted the tip of the vibrator, turning it on, and Felicity shouted as the vibrations immediately assaulted her.

“Oh god!” she cried.

Her nails ached from holding onto the bed so hard, and Oliver didn’t give her a second. He hiked her up higher and leaned over her, pressing the vibrator in deeper, making her open her mouth in a silent scream, feeling it in every inch of her, from the tips of her fingers, straight down to her toes.

His hips moved in short powerful thrusts, his moans starting to rival hers as the vibrations translated through her to him. Oliver cupped her sex, his fingers finding her clit. She jerked into his hand when he touched the tender spot as his other arm wrapped around her chest and yanked her upright.

“Aah!” Felicity cried.

The vibrator slid in deeper, the vibrations not ceasing in the least, his thrusts growing harder. Felicity cried out incoherently, grasping at his arm for something to hold on to, powerless to do anything but _feel_.

He played her perfectly, knowing exactly how to touch her and where. His hand slid up to her breast, and he gripped it tightly. Her nipple slipped between his fingers and he immediately clamped it between them just as his fingers between her thighs started rubbing…

“Oh god,” Felicity whimpered, her voice growing louder, the harsh pain from her nipple slicing through her; her clit grew harder, more needy under his touch, and he spread her juices all over it, rubbing her as he thrust into her from behind, her ass clenching around the vibrator. “Oliver, Oli… ver…”

“Felicity… oh… fuck…”

Oliver thrust into her wildly, hard and painful, shoving the vibrator in deeper. His fingers slipped messily over her clit before he just cupped her sex, using his grip to keep her still as he fucked her from behind.

Her release started building with too much force inside her. Felicity felt the hot prickly pleasure in her hands and feet, spreading up her arms and legs as the hot burn in her center grew… she felt the hot drip of her sex slipping down her thigh, felt the harsh breath of Oliver’s gasps against her naked shoulder, felt the sharp, stinging pain of her nipple between his fingers, felt his hand gripping her sex hard, pushing her back to meet his thrusts, to meet the constant pulsations of the vibrator inside her…

The sensations overwhelmed her, crashing through her from every direction.

It built too fast, too hard…

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver…!”

Felicity tried to hold on, tried to keep herself above it, to stay present, but the sensations were too much and it all suddenly peaked inside her.

“Ah, ah, ah… oh god!” Felicity came, a heavy shout ripping from her throat as the pleasure exploded inside her. The orgasm shot through her, white sheeting over her lids for a split second, sharp painful pricks dancing across her body, and she completely forgot about everything but that singular moment…

Oliver thrust harder and harder, his cries growing louder, sending aftershocks rattling through her, making her cry out his name. With a deep growl, Oliver thrust himself into her to the hilt and came with a loud shout that echoed her own cries. Her walls clenched around him, sucking him in deeper as he rode out the orgasm, thrusting into her shallowly, his whimpers dying down with his weakening thrusts until there was nothing left.

They collapsed onto the bed.

“Oliver,” Felicity gasped, reaching back blindly for the vibrator still going strong. “It’s… too much.”

He lifted his hand long enough to twist it off and she sighed in relief, still feeling the ghostly vibrations stemming from her sensitive hole.

Every inch of her trembled.

Oliver tugged the vibrator out, making her groan pathetically.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding very sorry. She could only moan in response. She was too spent to bring her arm back around and Oliver scooted closer, lifting her arm back around for her before plastering his chest to her back. His wet half-erect cock pressed between her sensitive cheeks and she moaned again.

He pressed his face to her shoulder with a contented sigh.

“Okay,” Felicity breathed. “So… A+. For taking challenges so seriously.”

Oliver laughed. “Does that mean I get to watch now?”

“Oh yes… but later. So, so… so much later.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/121000160644/prompt-olicity-laughing-and-talking-during-sex-i)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> Sequel: [Chapter 39: Only I Get To Touch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253/chapters/10636650)


	29. Brunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity are waiting for Thea and Roy to join them for brunch... and Felicity is not in a good mood.

One hour.

That was how long they’d been waiting, and that was too darn long in her book. Even the waiter was starting to give them the eye.

“Freaking brunch isn’t supposed to be this busy,” Felicity murmured, sipping her water. Oliver shot her an amused smile. “You’re too chipper.”

“And you’re not chipper enough,” he replied, leaning over to kiss her. She returned it begrudgingly and he smirked, giving her another kiss, and then one more for good measure. “They said they might be late.”

“Ha. _Might_ be late. I need more coffee,” Felicity said, grabbing her empty mug. “That waiter is doing a fine job glaring at our empty seats, but he’s not doing a fine job with the coffee.”

“No, he’s actually doing a great job, you’re just cranky.”

Felicity glared at him. “You really wanna go there right now?”

Oliver chuckled, grabbing her mug and waving the waiter down. “I’m only repeating your words.”

“You cannot hold my words against me. That’s a Smoak rule. We’ve been together how long? Haven’t you been paying attention?”

Oliver smiled lovingly at her as the waiter set down a brimming coffee cup. “Thank you.”

The waiter smiled politely. “Of course. Are we still waiting for the rest of your party?” 

Felicity turned to face him, ready to say something she would definitely feel bad about later, but Oliver’s hand clamped down on her thigh, stopping her from snapping at him.

“Yeah, thank you.”

The waiter nodded.

“Ugh, decaf,” Felicity mumbled into her coffee. “The one thing I don’t like about being pregnant.”

“You like the morning sickness part?”

“Thin ice, mister,” she replied and Oliver chuckled. He was enjoying this far too much, and she was not liking him enjoying it far too much.

Thea and Roy _had_ said they might be late, but not _this_ late. This was excessive lateness.

Five minutes passed, and then ten… and then fifteen.

Felicity tapped her finger on the table, watching the door, thinking about all the glorious things she could be doing right now - namely, sleeping - when Oliver’s hand brushed against her thigh again. She leaned back in her chair, turning to look at him. He grinned and kissed her, and some of her annoyance melted away.

He was happy.

And when he was happy, it usually meant she was happy.

Which she was, she was very happy. She was just… alright, she was just a bit cranky. Not that she would ever admit that to him.

Felicity leaned in for another kiss, her fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt for more leverage. The kiss was soft, but filled with promise, and when he responded, his hand gripping her thigh again, she let her hand slip inside his shirt, her nails scratching at his very firm, very delicious chest…

Speaking of things she enjoyed doing.

“Hey, frisky, keep those fingers to yourself,” Oliver said, pushing her hand back towards her. She pouted and he leveled her with a look. “Unless you want to really create a spectacle, keep those out of my shirt.”

“Party pooper,” Felicity said and leaned back in her own chair once more.

Another minute passed and Felicity looked back at him. He looked especially gorgeous today. He was rocking that GQ look of his, the one where he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, scruffy and rough; he carried the look so well it was almost effortless. His shirt was open a few buttons, lightly tucked into his pants, the white making his arms look especially… yummy.

Felicity licked her lips, and got an idea.

Felicity scooted her chair closer, ignoring his raised eyebrows as he watched her. She leaned in and propped her elbow on the table, turning towards him with a smile.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and she responded by slipping her hand underneath the table and down the front of his khaki pants. His breath hitched when her hand slid over his bulge and his immediately covered hers, stilling it. “Felicity!”

“Oliver,” she said, the level of seriousness in her voice almost alarming. “I’ve been sitting here for the last god only knows how long, nibbling on fruit, drinking decaf coffee, still a little annoyed you made me get up at all, tired and way too horny for my own good.” She moved her hand again, making him stiffen. “Give me this.”

“Felicity…”

She moved her hand again and his eyes fluttered shut… and then his hand fell away, giving her free reign. He opened his eyes to watch her, and she bit her lip, rubbing her hand over him again.

His eyes darkened, his lips parting slightly, and she grinned, cupping him through his pants, making him jerk.

To anyone watching, they looked like they were having an intimate conversation out on the patio of the restaurant, tucked away in the corner. They were far away enough that people didn’t notice that neither of them were doing any actual talking.

Felicity rubbed him through his pants, slowly moving her hand faster, her eyes still latched to his. He shifted, moaning under his breath, one hand moving to grip the table, making the glassware shake, while the other reached up and gripped her shoulder.

“Felicity,” he hissed, his eyes dipping close, his hips moving slightly and Felicity flipped her hand over, rubbing her knuckles over his now hard cock. He gasped, his hips surging, and she moved faster, rubbing the back of her fingers over his hard length… 

A rush of arousal pooled between her thighs, and she squeezed her legs together, licking her lips, watching him as he slowly lost control for her.

It was a gorgeous sight, the pleasure blossoming over his features, because of her, because of her hand touching him. It was hot as hell, and it only notched up her own arousal.

Oliver whimpered, his head falling forward, his breathing becoming more labored… The fact that someone might come over, that someone might realize what they were doing, sent a thrill through her and she rubbed faster, ignoring the burn of the fabric against her skin, instead concentrating on the swelling of her husband’s cock under her fingers…

“Oh god, oh shit, oh…”

Oliver’s grip on her shoulder tightened without warning and then his entire body stiffened before he came, letting out a low groan from deep in his chest. Felicity kept rubbing for a quick second, and his entire body shook as he spurted inside his pants, a heavy wet spot forming.

“Oh fuck, Felicity,” he breathed, his hand sliding down her arm to grip her wrist, stilling her movements. “That was…” He licked his lips, giving her a heavy-hooded look before leaning in for a not-so-chase kiss. Felicity beamed against his lips, and then he pulled back, looking down. “Oh, for fuck’s sake…” He glared at her. “Really?”

Felicity giggled and kissed him once more. It was his turn to begrudgingly return it before he grabbed his napkin and dropped it in his lap.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/121567632629/brunch-olicity-future-fic-explicit)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	30. Mutual Release: Oliver & Felicity, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #7 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. It’s been a week since Felicity defined their relationship, a week of strained silences only deepening the chasm between them... but they can’t stay away from each other for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a little deliberation, I decided to post this in the Heartbeats series as well as in its own story, mostly because I hate when I'm reading a series of ficlets in a collection, and they just _stop_. So I'll be finishing the story out in both places!

A soft sigh caught his attention.

He knew that sound as intimately as he knew his own, what had to be happening to create it, how she looked when she made it - how her lips parted, her skin flushed, her eyes fluttered shut, that tiny little furrow between her brows growing deeper when she was about to…

Oliver turned towards her before he could stop himself, his body reacting to the sound instinctively, and Diggle took complete advantage, slamming his escrima stick right into the back of Oliver’s thigh.

The whip of pain snapped through him like lava and his leg nearly gave out from underneath him.

“Son of a… fu…” Oliver clamped his jaw shut and glared at his sparring partner.

“A little distracted?” Diggle asked with a knowing grin and Oliver’s glare deepened before he swung his own sticks up. It was a practiced move, one that Diggle knew well over his years of training with Oliver, but there were still a few things Diggle refused to budge on. Namely…

Oliver faked him out twice before letting the stick slip down his hand and he flicked his wrist, nailing the stick straight into Diggle’s shin as hard as he could.

“Damn it!” Diggle growled, dropping his sticks, limping backwards, his eyes hot on Oliver’s face. “You didn’t have to prove your point that damn hard.” 

“Sorry,” Oliver murmured, his eyes sliding back to Felicity. She’d already turned away from them, leaning over her computers, tapping out a few more commands as she finished up preparations for the mission that night. The sound of her typing filled the space her little sigh had left behind.

He knew what he’d heard.

She’d been watching.

Felicity’s fingers froze on the keyboard, like she could feel his gaze on her, but she didn’t turn around. Oliver bit the tip of his tongue, willing her to turn, but when she didn’t - when her shoulders stiffened and she instead turned to her tablet - Oliver finally turned away from her.

Diggle stood in the middle of the mats, watching him watch her, that stupid smile on his face, and that only annoyed him more.

One week.

It had been one week since the night they’d gone to the Diggle’s for dinner, since they’d come back to the foundry and dove headfirst into whatever it was that was happening between them. Oliver didn’t have a name for it; what had started out as an accidental happenstance had quickly spiraled into way, way more, leaving him struggling to keep his head above water when he wanted nothing more than to let it all sweep him up and away.

Except she didn’t.

“I’m gonna get going,” Felicity said, and Oliver looked back at her. She studiously avoided his gaze, her eyes sweeping over him in acknowledgement before resting on Diggle. “I’ve got a little more prep to do on that bluff.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Diggle said and Felicity nodded, giving him a smile. She hadn’t given Oliver a smile that didn’t look painful or forced in days. “Be careful.” 

“I am the queen of careful,” she said, heading towards the stairs and then she paused. “Not a queen. I’m not a queen… of anything really. Unless you count the old Chinese takeout in my fridge, which could lead directly back to being the queen of careful because it’s been in there so long, although that negates the whole ‘not a queen’ thing… and I’m doing the tired babbling thing, which I’m stopping. In three, two…” She pointed at her ear. “My com’s in.”

“Okay,” Diggle replied, on the verge of a chuckle, and Felicity nodded again, her eyes never touching on Oliver before she turned to leave. Diggle waited for her to get out of earshot before he said, “Not that I’m enjoying the Oliver and Felicity Show, but this is getting ridiculous.”

Oliver stared blandly at him.

“What happened with you two?”

“Nothing,” Oliver said lowly, hearing the sound of the door upstairs opening and the clack of her heels as she made her way to her Mini, the door slamming shut behind her. He stalked past Diggle, tossing his sticks near the closet where they were stored. “Just an off week.”

“You guys don’t have off weeks,” Diggle said.

“We do now,” Oliver said, giving him a tight smile before heading towards the glass case that held his suit. He pulled it off the mannequin, heading towards the back to change. He heard Diggle huff, saying something under his breath before he moved to get ready himself.

One week.

One week since she’d had her fingers wrapped around his dick, since she’d been squirming with the need to come and he’d gotten to taste her - _finally_. And god, she had tasted _so good_ ; he’d wanted nothing more than to stay between her soft thighs - feel them quaking against his face, her muscles clenching and unclenching - for the rest of the night. But then she’d whined, thrusting up into his mouth…

_“Oh god. Oliver, please, I need you to-”_

Oliver had devoured her, and she’d come so beautifully loud under his tongue, her juices gushing out, coating his face, dripping down his chin. Her grip had been strong, her fist tugging at his hair, her body shaking with the aftershocks before she’d collapsed, trusting him to be there to catch her, to hold her. She’d been so tired, barely cognizant through the wine she’d drank along with her orgasm… 

So he’d taken her back to his cot.

For the first time ever he wished he’d taken the time to buy a real goddamn bed, but they made it work, and they’d slept - _soundly_. He’d only woken up when he realized that the warm woman pressed tightly up against him wasn’t a dream, that Felicity was really there… he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d made her come again, her tender flesh quivering under his fingers, so slick and wet with her arousal, loving that her clit was so sensitive because of him, because of what he’d done to her.

The sounds she’d made…

Oliver hadn’t really even thought about what would - rather, what _should_ have happened next. His cock had been hard, straining against her lush ass. He’d already been grinding against her, feeling the familiar pressure building inside, but he’d wanted _more_. He’d needed more.

Oliver could still feel the slickness of her juices leaking between his fingers, coating his hand as he’d spread her legs, and she’d let him - the trust she gave him, so easily and without an ounce of hesitation was like a drug in and of itself. The same overwhelming emotion that had filled his chest that night resonated inside him again as he got dressed, remembering how wet she’d been, how he’d spread her own juices all over her thighs…

She’d been so wet, so creamy, so…

“Fuck,” Oliver whispered, tucking his hardening dick into his leather pants. Well that was going to be an uncomfortable running partner tonight. It didn’t help that he’d only had his hand to relieve the tension that seemed to live under his skin ever since he’d smelled her fingers in the kitchen that morning, since she’d stared up at him with her guileless eyes, those perfect lips parted in a quickening breath…

Oliver yanked the zipper up.

_Later_.

But his mind wasn’t done. It remembered too well how she’d opened up for him, spreading herself, and he’d thrust between her thighs, giving him just a taste of what it would be like to thrust into _her_. It had been that thought, the thought of angling just enough, thrusting up and into her, filling her, feeling those tight walls clamping down around him that had carried him to completion, and he’d come all over her _again_ …

Oliver groaned, shaking his head, his dick twitching at the memory.

He’d come all over her, and she’d reveled in it. It was a heady thought, doing that at all, but the look in her eye, the sight of her covered…

But then something had _changed_.

The shitty mood Oliver had been living in since that night spiraled even further down the drain. He’d woken up alone, in his own mess, Felicity nowhere to be found. He’d found his clothes and followed the noises she was making in the bathroom, grateful she hadn’t left, but when she’d come out, something had been… _off_.

And then she’d shut him out, completely.

_“Oliver, let’s not make this a thing. If we make it a thing, it becomes a thing that we have to… make, and… What I’m trying to say is it happened, and if it happens again, great, and if it doesn’t… great. Let’s not complicate it.”_

He was still reeling from it, and like a total jackass he hadn’t opened his mouth; she’d caught him completely off guard.

_“Let’s not complicate it.”_

He’d wanted to talk, to figure out what they were, what they were becoming; he wasn’t sure exactly what they would’ve talked about, what they would have concluded, but it definitely wouldn’t have been _that_.

Had he gone too fast?

Had it been too much, too intimate, too close to the real thing, the thing that he found himself _needing_ , almost as much as his body needed air.

Had he scared her off?

He’d let the moment get away from, let himself go too far… she’d felt so damned good, he’d been mindless in his need to touch her.

One week, and they still hadn’t talked, and they hadn’t done anything else either.

Oliver was on _edge_ , and having to be around her all the damned time, seeing her apparently handling their lack of anything so much better than he was made it worse. It wasn’t one-sided, he knew it wasn’t one-sided, but the way she was acting… Oliver knew what he’d heard, knew that tiny little sigh, the same sigh she made when their lips parted after a heated kiss, when his fingers found her hard little clit, when he bent her over a table, rubbing himself against her…

The thought of Felicity’s eyes on him while he sparred was intoxicating.

_“What else is a girl to do when you walk around shirtless all the time?”_

So what the hell were they doing?

“Oliver, the meet time is coming up, let’s roll,” Diggle shouted, jerking him out of his thoughts where he stood with his leathers undone, his jacket in hand, staring at the cot… 

At the white stain on the edge of it.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah, coming,” Oliver yelled back, his eyes on the spot as he shrugged his jacket on.

He had to talk to her. He had to do _something_.

Oliver met Diggle in the main room, quickly snapping his artillery on, fixing his quiver over his shoulder and grabbing his bow. Diggle handed him his com before they jogged up the stairs, Diggle to the van and Oliver to his bike to head to their designated stakeout spots.

Talk. At least talk about it, because having to listen to Felicity over the com was going to be _torture_ \- she always filled the empty space of waiting during stakeouts with chit-chat, asking questions, filling them in about something she’d learned that day, or something she thought they could use to make their work easier; basically anything that came to mind, and usually he looked forward to it, but not tonight.

Not after knowing how her voice sounded when she was telling him to not stop when his fingers were in her pants, or how husky it was after she came, how she sounded begging him, how she gasped and sighed and…

“Fuck,” Oliver whispered again as he started his bike, gritting his teeth.

He vaguely heard Diggle asked if he was okay as he revved the engine and took off. 

*

Five long, excruciating hours later, Felicity got the window to take down the security system from her spot on the bluff overlooking the compound and Oliver and Diggle infiltrated the building, finding their guy. They got the info they needed on who was bringing the firearms into the city, and they found a healthy underground heroin operation in another section that they called Starling City’s best in on.

It was a success. Oliver should be happy, and he was… until he heard Felicity’s, “I’ve gotta get going, guys, the slave driver has me scheduled for the opening shift tomorrow,” and his shitty mood was back in an instant. It only got worse when she clicked her com off right after Diggle said goodnight.

When Diggle offered to drop him off at his bike, Oliver declined in what he thought was a pleasant enough voice, but the look Diggle sent him said otherwise. Oliver’s chagrined, “Sorry,” was met with a, “Just hash this shit out, man,” before Diggle took off, the van’s taillights disappearing in the sea of dust the tires kicked up. 

By the time he made it back to his bike, the tension was radiating off him. Oliver hooked his bow on the handlebars and straddled the bike, clenching his jaw rhythmically as he took a deep breath.

It only made the knot in his gut tighter.

After a long second, Oliver glanced at the bluff where she was supposed to be stationed. It was completely dark, not that he’d be able to see anything anyway; they’d talked about where to park so she could get in and out without anyone seeing her from the compound. It had been the only place that was close enough while still being far away enough if something bad happened where she could gain access via the proximity she needed.

She was probably heading home, to get ready for bed… to strip off the bright yellow dress she’d been wearing, to unhook those strappy black and red heels… she’d let them dangle from her fingers as she made her way to her bedroom. She’d pull her side zipper down, tossing her shoes into her closet as she revealed the silky white skin, a stark contrast to the bright blue lace bra that he could already feel if he were there, helping her slip out of the dress, running his hands up her sides, feeling her goosebumps under his fingers…

A flash of light on the bluff caught his eye, and it was gone before he knew what he’d seen.

Oliver frowned, wondering if he’d imagined it, when he heard something on the other end of the com.

A sigh.

_Her sigh._

Oliver froze, his ears straining for more.

Was she still up there? Was that light from her car, was she…

Felicity _moaned_ , so soft and sweet and subtle that Oliver wouldn’t have heard it had he not been paying attention. And then she moaned again, a little louder, and his entire body tightened. She was still up there, it hadn’t been enough time for her to move, to have made it home already…

She had to still be up there… was she touching herself?

“Oliver…”

His heart stopped as everything inside him responded to her breathy whisper… his name, it was his name she was calling out, him she was thinking about… 

“Felicity,” he replied without thinking, closing his eyes.

Her shocked gasp had them snapping back open.

“Oh my god,” Felicity yelped, her voice cracking and Oliver heard her quick movements on the other side. “Oliver? Are you… oh my god, this stupid com, it didn’t… turn off, oh my god this is-”

“Don’t stop,” Oliver said, cutting her off. Silence met him as he continued, “Whatever you were doing, don’t… don’t stop.”

It was a long, long moment before she whispered, “What?”

“Don’t stop. Please. I need… I haven’t heard…” Oliver closed his eyes, bowing his head, leaning forward on his handlebars. His voice was strained as he looked up towards the bluff again, and said, “Please, Felicity.”

“What do you…” She paused, and he could hear her moving again, getting situated before she whispered, “What do you want me to do?”

“What were you doing?” he asked throatily.

“I was…” She paused again, and he waited. He would always wait. If this is what he was able to get, if this was all he was able to get, then he would wait forever for that tiny moment, that small taste. “I was… touching myself.”

Oliver closed his eyes, imagining her in her car. “How?”

“My fingers… in my panties.”

She sounded unsure and Oliver was one hundred percent sure he needed to shut his goddamned mouth and leave her alone, but he didn’t.

God help him, he didn’t want to. 

“Are you wet?”

“Yes,” she whispered and he groaned, bowing his head again.

“Touch yourself.” Oliver made tight fists and leaned forward on the bike, delighting in the tight tug of his leathers as he strained against them, rubbing against the seat slightly. “Touch your clit.” Her voice hitched when he said that - in desire, in _need_ \- and he squeezed his eyes shut, listening to her breathing grow heavier. “Talk to me, Felicity.”

“Oliver… I’m… I’m touching my clit…”

“Yes…”

“I’m thinking about your… mouth… on me. How you… tasted me, before… how much I needed you to touch me… oh god, Oliver, I needed you so badly-” She broke off in a heavy whine and Oliver bit his tongue. “Oliver…”

“You tasted so good,” Oliver rasped, thrusting in his seat again without thinking, seeking his own friction. “And you were so responsive; god, you were so responsive, I wanted to eat you out all night, lick your clit until you were begging me to stop…”

“Ooohh,” she whimpered, and he could hear the changes in her voice, the arousal building in her. “Yes… Oliver…”

Oliver groaned, and cupped himself through his pants; he didn’t feel nearly as much as he needed to through his glove and the leather, but it was enough.

“Use your fingers, put your fingers inside yourself,” he gritted out, rubbing himself harder.

She whispered something incoherent, and he had the perfect image of her sitting in her car up on that bluff, her legs spread open, her fingers inside her panties, her back arching off the seat as she thrust her fingers into herself, filling herself… her fingers where he wanted to be, where he _needed_ to be…

His cock strained in his pants, swelling under his hand at the thought of being near her, touching her, _anything_ …

_Fuck it._

“Are you still on the bluff?” he asked roughly and he started the bike, her response getting lost in the sudden roar. “Felicity?”

“Yeah… I’m still up here.” 

“I’m coming up there.” Oliver spun the bike, kicking up dust and gravel and then he was off. 

“Wait, are you, uh…” Felicity cleared her throat, and he heard the movement of her clothes as she shifted. “Is that a good idea?”

Oliver eased up on the gas.

It would take him only a few minutes to reach her, and they both knew it.

“Do you not want me to?” he asked quietly, the bike slowing to a stop at the main road. Oliver stared at the pavement, the street empty, concentrating on every little sound coming from her side.

“I, uh…”

Her hesitation was like glass grating inside his veins. “Felicity, I didn’t mean to-” 

“No. I mean, I do,” Felicity said, and the tight anticipation that had started to ease out of his body whipped through him in a sharp arc, leaving him aching as she whispered, “Come, come up here. I need you. God, I’ve needed you-”

The engine let out a loud roar as he took off.

He reached her in barely a minute.

Oliver spotted her car instantly, tucked exactly where they had planned, the dull light from her dashboard highlighting her face. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, her lips parted in a pant; her chest was heaving, her shoulders moving as she touched herself.

He listened to her breathy moans over the com, watching her from afar, hearing her pleasure herself in his ear, her voice hitching as she got closer and closer…

Her eyes open when he pulled in closer and she looked at him, lids hooded, lips glossy… and then she licked those goddamn lips, looking so perfectly wanton and gorgeous that he nearly came right then. Oliver groaned, barely parking the bike and getting the kickstand out before he was off and headed towards her car. He yanked his hood and mask off, tossing his gloves aside as she sat up. She opened her door, using the edges of her hands to pull herself out of the car, the moonlight making her fingers gleam from her juices…

“Oliver,” she said, his name coming out in that beautiful breathy sigh, and he groaned. They crashed together, their mouths connecting with a clash of teeth and lips that was both painful and addicting.

Oliver shoved her back against the side of her Mini, his hands slipping around her waist to hoist her off the ground. She gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist, her wet fingers gripping his shoulders, slipping on the green leather. He could smell her, just like before, the scent of her arousal, and it only drove him more insane with need. Desire coursed through his veins, urging him on…

Oliver anchored her against the car, kissing her harder, making her whimper and whine underneath him.

He was insatiable. He _needed_ her; he’d been needing her, and he’d been constantly denied, unable to touch her, barely able to look at her…

Felicity pulled back, desperate for air, and Oliver attacked her throat, his lips and tongue striking out a path down to her pulse point where he sucked on the delicate flesh. She cried out, arching into him for more, her hand slipping to the back of his head, pushing him closer. Oliver hiked her up higher, his hands dropping down to her thighs to push them further around him as he thrust up against her.

“Yes!” she panted, the dark night swallowing up her cries. He did it again, and again, almost violently, shoving her up against the side of the car in his urgency, imagining her wetness smearing all over the front of his pants, her desire for _him_. “Yes, yes…! Oliver, Oliver…”

“Yes,” Oliver whispered at the sound of her breathless voice moaning his name. He shivered when she did it again.

“Oh god, please, please,” she whispered mindlessly, her body undulating against him, rubbing as much of herself against him as she could reach, her body jerking with each sensation, like her nerves were frayed and sensitive, and all it would take was one stroke…

He gripped her tight with one hand and slid his other between them, pushing her panties out of the way. Her panties were soaked through, her thighs slick, her sex throbbing with need. Oliver pressed a finger inside her, and she keened. He added a second… and then a third, pressing them up as far as he could, her warmth sucking him in, already pulsing around him. She was so smooth, so perfectly silken, clenching around him, and Oliver pulled them out and thrust them back in.

Felicity babbled incoherently, his name littered throughout, her voice growing louder as he finger-fucked her. She held onto him, her legs tightening around him, her head falling back…

Oliver leaned back to watch her face as he moved his hand faster, pushing her higher. He thrust his hips against his hand, giving his finger thrusts more force, making the car rock, imitating what he really wanted to do to her, how he really wanted to fill her…

She started trembling, her fingers digging into him.

Oliver changed the angle on his hand so his thumb could reach her clit and the second he grazed it, her grip on him changed, her voice hitching. It echoed off the sky-high walls of mountainous hills next to the road, her voice bouncing off them and back out into the empty space around the bluff.

He stroked her again, and again, the sharp cries falling from her growing louder.

Oliver _wanted_ someone to hear her, hear how she sounded as he got her off.

“Yes, yes, yes… Right there, right there, don’t stop, please… don’t stop… Oliver, Oliver… Oliver!” 

“Come for me,” Oliver rumbled. He watched her face, her skin flushing in the low light, her mouth parting in a silent scream as she bucked against him, the car rocking. “Come for me, Felicity, come on my fingers, come for me…”

“Ah, ah, ah, aaahhh, oh god!”

Her body jerked against him, her hips moving faster against his hand as the orgasm plowed through her. Her hands slid up to the back of his head, her blunt nails digging into his scalp, her inner walls clenching around his fingers, her clit trembling, her juices flooding his fingers, coating his hand…

“Aahh, oh god, oh god,” she whimpered before her body went limp.

Oliver pinned her to the car, his hand slipping out of her to grab her leg, to keep her from slipping out of his grasp. The cool night air danced over his wet fingers and Oliver buried his face in her throat, listening to her heart racing, her breathing erratic.

She hummed her satisfaction, wrapping her arms around him.

Neither of them moved… until Oliver’s hips started moving of their own volition.

Felicity moaned when he rubbed his hard cock, straining for freedom inside his pants, against her hot core.

Oliver wasn’t sure how it happened, but one second he was holding her, and the next she was unwinding herself and slipping down to her knees.

“Felicity?” he managed, but her hands were already undoing the buttons of his pants, shoving the leather open.

There was no preamble, no waiting, as she pulled his boxers down enough for his hard cock to pop free, and then her mouth was around the head and all coherent thought swept out of his head.

“Oh… shit,” he hissed, his head falling back, his hands slipping through her hair. He pushed his fingers through the tight strands of her ponytail, pulling it loose, digging his fingers deeper into the beautiful blonde mess. Felicity’s tongue swirled around him and without warning she moved lower, taking as much of him as she could inside her hot, perfect mouth. “Oh god… Felicity… oh… god.”

Oliver kept one hand in her hair, pushing his fingers through it to cup the back of her head, and braced himself against the car, towering over her, giving himself the perfect view of her face as she sucked him off. He moaned brokenly, gasping her name as she worked him, taking him a little deeper with each bob of her head, swirling her tongue over him, tightening her lips.

She splayed one hand across his pelvis, her thumb hooking under his shaft while her other reached inside his boxers and grasped his balls. She squeezed and Oliver cursed - loudly - nearly thrusting all the way before he stopped himself.

She must have felt his restraint because Felicity pulled back, releasing the head of his cock with a loud pop.

The cool air wrapped around his wet dick as she licked her lips - Oliver’s eyes nearly crossed at the sight - and looked up at him.

“It’s okay,” she said huskily. Her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock as she said, “I want you to.”

“Felicity… I don’t… want to…” He could barely fucking _think_ , much less speak, especially when twisted her fingers around his shaft at the same time as she squeezed his balls again. “Fuck, Felicity.”

“It’s okay,” she said again, nodding in encouragement. Her eyes never left his as she guided his cock back into her mouth, and the sensation of her hot tongue swirling over him in combination with the cool night air made his hips surge forward. She nodded, her eyes still locked with his, and then she took him in _deep_.

And he was done.

Oliver fisted her hair, leaning her back until she was flush with the car and he started thrusting shallowly into her mouth. She moaned, the vibrations rocketing through him.

He watched her, watched her lips tightening as she started sucking more and more with each thrust, and he started losing more and more control as his pleasure mounted.

Her mouth felt so fucking good, her tongue working him, her moans vibrating, her fingers starting to rub the base of his shaft in quick, even strokes, her other hand grasping at his balls, tugging on them…

“Oh god, Felicity, that is… that’s… don’t stop…”

The tight coil of pleasure in the base of his spine grew hotter, and his thrusts grew a little wilder, pushing into her mouth a little deeper… 

He gripped her hair tightly and she leaned back against the car as the head of his cock touched the back of her throat. She moaned, and he told himself to back off, vaguely realizing what the hell he was doing, but she tightened her lips, sucking _harder_ , and he cried out… Oliver’s hips moved faster, his eyes on her lips, watching his cock disappearing between them.

Felicity dragged her teeth over his shaft, “Felicity!” and when he pulled out, she swirled her tongue rapidly over the sensitive head, her teeth digging in just enough before he thrust back between her teeth, the perfect amount of pleasure-pain stoking the burn inside him. He choked out a desperate moan and gripped her head harder, thrusting into her mouth, her teeth and tongue and heat and fingers…

Oliver came with a loud shout, spurting into her mouth, and she swallowed every last bit of it. The sensation of her throat convulsing, her tongue coaxing more out of him, made him spasm with pleasure, his hips jerking against her face until there was nothing left.

Oliver slumped over, his cock slipping from her lips. He opened his eyes in time to see her tucking him back into his boxers and pants, licking her lips, her tongue sneaking out to lick the side of her mouth. He whimpered under his breath, and shivered when she pressed a chaste kiss to him through the leather before she stood up.

Felicity brushed off her knees, yanking her yellow dress back into place, a tiny smile on her puffy lips.

Oliver watched her lazily, and when she turned to him with that small, content smile, he acted on pure instinct, grabbing her, crushing her against his chest, his lips finding hers. 

Felicity sighed, wrapping herself around him, and he shifted just enough to have her pushed back against the car, his entire length pressed against her.

The kiss was lazy, gentle and languid, and he tasted the sharp tang of himself on her tongue, and he wanted more. He deepened the kiss, and she returned every inch of it.

“Mmm,” Felicity moaned, humming against his lips as the kiss slowly turned into softer, chaste ones.

“Felicity,” he whispered, kissing her once more before pulling back to look at her. He smiled. “Hi.”

Felicity blushed, chuckling, and something deep in his chest dropped at the endearing sight. “Hi.”

Now… now was the time. There was more, so much more, but in that moment… it could wait, for just a second, as he took her in. His Felicity. The moon had slipped behind a thin wisp of clouds, but he could still see the light flush on her cheeks, her swollen lips, the satisfied haze in her eyes as she stared back at him… Her skin was a light pink, matching the silky blouse she’d worn the day before, but he could see the darkening edges, the hint of more, and he knew that having her lips wrapped around him had left her wanting all over again…

It was easy, for that split second, to see nothing else but this, the way she was right then, in his arms, both of them contented… Nothing else existed but this moment, this tiny bubble that was theirs and theirs alone.

“You’re staring,” she whispered, her words matching her soft smile.

Oliver smiled, and leaned in again, tipping his nose against hers, urging her lips towards his. He groaned when she met him halfway, just as quietly eager as he was. The kiss was subtle and perfect, precious… and it slowly grew into more. Oliver slid his tongue along the loose seam of her mouth, begging entrance, and she opened just enough, just enough for him to get a taste. Oliver sighed, pressing his tongue in, needing more, feeling like they hadn’t just kissed each other senseless a moment ago, like she hadn’t come around his fingers or she hadn’t dragged those teeth down his length.

This moment, that was all that mattered.

This moment… and he needed her. He always needed her, he would always need her.

In that split second of thinking, Oliver knew he couldn’t wait anymore.

_Felicity…_

Felicity opened up for him and her tongue met his in the middle. Her moan vibrated through him and Oliver wrapped an arm around her, pressing her up against the car again as one hand slipped down her waist and hip, down to her thigh where he lifted it up, letting him press himself up against her.

“Oliver…” she gasped, senselessly, sounding too far gone to do anything but feel…

“Felicity,” he groaned, capturing her lips again.

Her blunt nails dug into his jacket, pulling him closer as he lifted her leg higher, his fingers slipping into the crook of her knee, and she wrapped her leg around him, her heel digging into his thigh. 

“Come home with me,” he whispered against her lips, so softly he barely heard it himself, but she caught them… and she stiffened. It was so minute, barely visible, but he felt it as if he’d been the one flinching, and it sobered him instantly. He pulled back, and watched the pleasure-fueled contentment drain from her face.

A knife twisted in his gut as he watched her retreat right before his eyes. “Felicity…”

“I-I can’t,” she said. Her lips trembled, the beautiful flush she’d been harboring evaporating, hesitancy, uncertainty… _fear_ … filling her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Neither moved, her words hanging stagnant in the air. She withdrew more the longer he didn’t move, didn’t speak, and Oliver…

Oliver was… numb. He felt like he’d inadvertently handed her a piece of his heart and it had turned to ash the instant it touched her palm. Oliver swallowed thickly, licking his lips… and gently set her leg down, unwinding her arms. He took a few steps back, his eyes never leaving hers.

Talk. They were supposed to talk. They were supposed to decide what it was that they were - because it damn well was more than _friends_ , no matter what she said - and then… then it was supposed to be okay.

_Talk._

But she’d said everything he needed to hear.

_“I can’t. I’m sorry.”_

“Oliver…” 

“It’s fine,” Oliver said, his voice rough. His eyes ticked to her open car door, for the first time hearing the monotonous tone of her car alerting to the fact the door was still hanging open. “I’ll follow you. To make sure you get home.”

“Oliver…” she said, her voice sounding tiny. “You don’t have to.”

He smiled, but it was a ghost of what he’d been felt a bare few minutes ago, and didn’t reply. Instead he turned, and found one of his gloves on the ground where he’d tossed it. The other was a few feet away, closer to his bike. He picked them up, not feeling the hot burn of her eyes on his back as he numbly put them back on, feeling the oddest sense of detachment, like he wasn’t really there…

The sound of her car starting up pulled him back, and Oliver waited for her to pull out before he started the bike. He followed her to her apartment, staying back about a block, out of sight, while she got out. His heart stuttered when she hesitated and looked around for him... and then she went inside.

The second she was out of sight, the hot burn in his chest lit him up from the inside out.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful response to this mini-series! I’m intrigued to hear what everyone thinks since I’ve switched the tables with them - it’s surprisingly hard to get into their heads when it’s Oliver wanting to go forward, and Felicity holding back. :P
> 
> One more part planned!


	31. Mutual Release: Oliver & Felicity, Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #8 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. The night is far from over…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing response to this story. It started out as a simple couple of smutlets and really grew into so much more. The deeper I got into this story, the more I wished I'd spent some more time fleshing it out in a larger, more involved one because of the path I put Felicity on. It really deserves so much more - she deserves so much more. I loved (and kind of hated, because I cut myself off at the knees with the nature of this series) getting inside her insecurities and reversing the roles between them, it was delightful and it humanized Felicity a great deal more for me.
> 
> A huge thank you to mersayseh for reviewing this update!

Felicity unlocked the front door, letting it swing open.

Her hand hovered where the lock had been, her keys clenched in a tight fist.

She didn’t step in.

Instead she stared into the black hole that waited for her; the slants of streetlight coming through the open blinds, highlighting her couch and the TV, the dull green time on her stove, the quick tick of the clock she never actually used to tell time.

It all waited for her… and she was afraid if she stepped in there, she wouldn’t come out again. It was safety and surety, a promise that she’d made the right decision, that she would be okay, that everything would be okay because she’d made the right, _safe_ choice…

Something was stopping her from lifting her foot and going inside.

Felicity blinked, swallowing, completely unable to move.

Her skin felt like it had a life of its own, vibrating over every inch of her; her heart hummed erratically, like it was pumping too hard, shoving blood through her veins like they were train tunnels instead of tiny vessels.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

She could still feel him, smell him, _taste_ him…

_“Come home with me.”_

Felicity squeezed her keys tightly, taking a deep, shaky breath. In her mind’s eyes, she hadn’t left the bluff… she could still see him, clear as day.

_Oliver…_

God, just thinking his name was like someone slicing through her lung with a serrated blade. How had things gotten so messed up? How had they gotten here, how had _she_ gotten here? 

_“Come home with me.”_

Felicity’s heart dropped at the echo of his words and she pinched her lips until it hurt.

It had been a week of lingering looks, small glances, avoiding each other like the plague. He didn’t make a move and so she didn’t, effectively erasing the quiet and beautiful intimacy from their one night in the foundry.

_“Oliver, let’s not make this a thing. If we make it a thing, it becomes a thing that we have to… make, and… What I’m trying to say is it happened, and if it happens again, great, and if it doesn’t… great. Let’s not complicate it.”_

But that was for the best, it had to be. Because it wasn’t just Oliver’s touch, his kisses, his caresses or his soft voice whispering things in her ear that she missed… it was _him_. She missed _him_. She wanted to go to him, talk to him, _be_ with him…

It was for the best, the distance, for the both of them. She had taken away the weird complications that could arise out of them being a _them_ and saved herself the heartbreak that would inevitably come if - _when_ \- she allowed herself to fully fall for him. Because she would.

_Because she already had._

Except her body didn’t get the memo. It remembered far too well what he could do to her, for her; how he touched her like he’d been doing it for years already, knowing exactly what she needed, where she needed it…

And then he’d been sparring earlier, his shirt off…

As she’d watched him move, watched the play of muscles and how his scars contracted with his movements, she realized that she’d gotten to see and touch him in some of the most intimate ways possible, but she’d been robbed of the quiet intimacy that came from _exploring him_.

His scars, his tattoos… exploring each ab with her tongue, dragging her nails down his chest, scraping them over his nipples, learning what he responded to, learning _him_ …

It had made her chest contract - with regret and frustration that she couldn’t put her issues aside - but also with _need_.

It hadn’t been enough, she discovered over the last week, touching herself wasn’t enough; she came, but she needed _more_.

She needed him.

Felicity must have made a sound because Oliver had turned an instant later and Diggle had clipped him, breaking the spell. She’d escaped as quickly as she could after that, Oliver’s eyes burning a hole in her back the entire time - she couldn’t even look him in the eye, especially when she’d started babbling like an idiot on about being a queen… and all that followed by hours of sitting on her own, on top of the bluff, nobody talking over the coms, hearing only Diggle’s easy breathing, and Oliver’s heavier, more accented one…

If thirty other people had been breathing on the coms, she’d be able to pick his out instantly.

She knew what he sounded like when her fingers were wrapped around his erection, the tiny noises he made when he ate her out, how soft his voice was when he whispered into her ear, urging her to come, his fingers between her legs… his pleasure-filled whimpers when he rubbed himself against her…

The deep moan that ended in a sharp breathy cry when he came.

It was almost too much, having to hear him without being able to do anything about it, when her computer had beeped, and she’d been able to hack into the compound… The mission was over quickly and she’d begged off as soon as she could. But somehow, while putting all her equipment away, hearing only the sound of the water below, the wind rustling the trees, she’d felt so… alone, and so needy…

And he’d heard her.

She didn’t know how her com came back on, but it hadn’t mattered because all she’d needed was the sound of his rough voice, urging her to touch herself… his voice alone had been enough for a flood of wetness to coat her fingers, and she hadn’t been able to stop, remembering how good i>his fingers felt, rubbing her just like she’d shown him that morning in the kitchen…

_“You tasted so good… and you were so responsive; god, you were so responsive, I wanted to eat you out all night, lick your clit until you were begging me to stop…”_

It hadn’t been her hand touching her, but his, the whispered words over the com his lips pressed to her ear, his hot breath dancing over her, making her shiver with need. Her pleasure had spiked…

Felicity’s body clenched at the memory and she leaned against the wall, her head falling back with a dull thud as she remembered how she’d nearly come when he’d asked her to use her fingers.

And then he’d said he was coming to her.

The logical side of her had wanted to say no, and she almost did, because it was safer, easier… but she hadn’t _cared_. She’d wanted nothing more than to feel him against her again, kiss him, touch him, breathe him in… 

She’d teased herself, listening to the rev of his bike over the com and the next thing she knew, he was there and all that mattered was getting to him.

He’d felt so _good_ against her, his warm, urgent hands everywhere, his confident touch, his soft lips as he shoved three fingers as deep as he could inside her, his thumb flicking her clit. The thrust of his hips against his hand, pushing his fingers deeper, her orgasm crashing through her… followed by the hard gravel under her knees, her body still throbbing from the orgasm he’d wrenched out of her as she took in the musky mixture of _Oliver_ and well-worn leather.

The sounds he’d made when she’d wrapped her lips around him, how he’d gripped her hair in a tight fist, fighting the urge to thrust deep into her mouth.

_“I don’t… want to… Fuck, Felicity…”_

_“It’s okay. I want you to.”_

He’d fought it, for a moment, before giving in, trusting her to take care of both of them, just like when he’d come all over her in the foundry - she’d never forget the sensation of his hot cum landing on her thighs, coating her between her legs - but this time she’d gotten to _taste_ him, and it had been so good, so much better than she could have dreamed. He was salty, musky and delicious, and she’d sucked and licked and bobbed until he’d come, hard, his fingers tangled in her hair, burning her scalp as she swallowed every last bit of him. 

The look he’d given her after…

The way he’d kissed her…

_Perfect._

It had been perfect, just like before, and easy.

She could handle the simple stuff, when it was just about them touching each other, giving and taking pleasure equally…

_“Come home with me.”_

The words had slammed into her like a tsunami. White noise had filled her head like a nest of hornets beating against her skull as it all came rushing back to her: the last week, the stolen moments in the foundry, and all the way back to when he’d smelled her arousal on her fingers… back to when she’d heard him gasping her name in the other room as he’d jerked off, when she’d touched herself, getting off at the thought that he was getting off thinking about her…

And her heart had turned to ice.

It was everything they’d done - the brief moments, the what-if’s, the quick touches and the slow, lingering ones, the hurried kisses and the wet ones that were more a brand than anything… it all surged up inside her chest in a tidal wave, threatening to pull her under, because what if she did go home with him? What then? Is that all this would be, would they sleep together and nothing more? Isn’t that what he’d stopped himself from doing last week, isn’t that the line they couldn’t cross?

Isn’t that what this entire thing had been from the beginning, giving into a mutual attraction that that had somehow spiraled into something else, but nothing more?

_“I don’t think this is… smart.”_

_“Pretend it didn’t happen it is then.”_

It had taken way too many nights staring at the ceiling, dissecting the complicated web of emotions she found clogging her every thought to realize she _knew_ \- she always had - that whatever they were then wasn’t enough; it was never going to be enough.

So before it went too far, before she got in too deep, she had to stop it, and so she had.

_“I-I can’t… I’m sorry.”_

Felicity had watched that beautiful open smile fade away, the, _“It’s fine,”_ slipping out, jagged with the emotion his face was hiding…

“God…” Felicity whispered, the burn of tears making her eyes sting.

She’d never seen that look on Oliver’s face, and she’d seen plenty of them. She’d seen him beaten down, the life literally stolen from him; she’d seen him stripped of everything, from having to watch his friends and family murdered before his eyes, watch helplessly as the light in their faces fade away; she’d seen him hopeless, drifting through life without an anchor in the world, existing from moment to moment… she’d seen him when there was absolutely _nothing_ left, but she’d never seen him look the way he had that night.

It had been _hope_ … slowly fading into nothing.

Felicity closed her eyes, bowing her head, feeling like her chest was going to implode any minute.

He’d been hoping… hoping she said yes? What did he want? What did she want? She should have said something, but the words hadn’t come. She’d watched him walk away, back to his bike, where he waited for her to continue with the very concrete line she’d just slammed down between them, _again_.

She had done that.

It was because of her that he’d looked that way.

Felicity looked back into the apartment. She knew if she stepped in there that would be it, she would be closing the door on whatever it was she’d seen… but if she went to the foundry? Was there more? Did he want more? What if he didn’t, and she was blowing this way out of proportion? What then?

Rejection wasn’t a new thing in her world, she’d learned to harden herself against it when her father left… and then when Cooper was arrested… and then when she found out he’d killed himself… it wasn’t new, and if she was being honest with herself it was probably having a little too much influence right now, because the mere _thought_ of Oliver rejecting her left her _empty_ , and she couldn’t handle that….

… but the thought of him going on, looking at her like he had, that _blankness_ , no longer _her_ Oliver… she couldn’t handle that either.

The sound of a motorcycle - _his_ motorcycle - suddenly shot to life somewhere in the distance.

Felicity jumped, the violent hum of her heart filling her ears with white noise.

She waited for him to drive away… but the engine only idled.

He was waiting.

Felicity bit her lip, her feet itching to step out, to wave at him, to tell him…

The unnamed thought had her reaching inside and flipping one the lights on. The instant the harsh luminescence broke through the dark, the engine revved again, and her stomach dropped, knowing the second she heard it that she’d made the wrong decision.

“Wait,” Felicity breathed, moving around the corner to catch him but Oliver was already taking off, the distinct rumble rapidly disappearing down the street as he drove away.

Felicity slammed her door shut without locking it, her keys slipping from her fingers. They landed with a loud clatter on the ground and she scrambled for them, tripping over her muddy heels.

Before she could second-guess herself, Felicity had the car on and reversed out of her spot, following him. 

*

Exhaustion pulled at his bones.

Oliver was on autopilot, cleaning his hair first and then soaping his body. He couldn’t remember if he’d already cleaned his torso, or if he’d cleaned off the blood that had somehow ended up on his calf, or if he’d scrubbed all the dirt out from under his fingernails - he had that meeting with the QC Board next week, he needed to at least _look_ the part of someone who wanted to own the company again.

He went through the motions, his mind a million miles away.

The water was hot - scalding - and it stung the cuts he’d gotten earlier in the night, and he reveled in it. 

How had this spiraled so far out of control?

It was his fault; he’d started this, all of this, and he’d let himself get in too deep… so deep that he ended up pushing her away, and now things would never be the same.

He kept hearing Felicity’s trembling voice, seeing her wide eyes filling with reluctance and - worst of all - _fear_. Fear of what, him? Them? They hadn’t even talked about it, and already she was saying no. Which was _fine_. She’d made her choice and he was going to respect it, because they had no claim on each other.

There wasn’t anything to claim if she didn’t want more, right?

He was _fine_.

So why did he feel like she’d shoved an icepick into his chest with her, _“I-I can’t… I’m sorry.”_

Oliver bit his tongue until it stung. Why hadn’t he said something? Why hadn’t he questioned her? But who was he to question how she felt? She didn’t want to come back with him, she didn’t want… _him_. A mixture of shame and despair slowly stole the air from his lungs at that thought… because there was _more_ , on his side. There had been more, long since before he’d whispered those words to her in the mansion, those simple words used only to fool Slade…

Except they hadn’t just been words, had they?

Oliver stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, and when he couldn’t take it any longer, he shut it off. He didn’t glance in the mirror as he grabbed the towel, running it over his limbs just enough to wipe off the excess water before he wrapped it around his hips and headed towards his cot.

The exhaustion yanking at his every muscle like tiny strings weighed down with weights wasn’t physical… it was everything else. His entire being was _spent_. Somewhere along the line, something had shifted, and when they’d started whatever… whatever it was they had been doing, it had only sealed the deal:

He was in love with her.

And he’d fucked it all up. They should never have done this, never crossed that line… He should have let things go that morning in the kitchen, push his feelings down, pretend they don’t exist, but he hadn’t been able to.

And now look what where they were.

“Damn it,” Oliver murmured, rubbing his face until it burned as he reached the cot.

A tiny, “Oh,” sounded followed quickly by the sound of rustling clothes.

Oliver froze and looked up.

_Felicity._

“Hi,” she said softly.

Oliver didn’t move.

He just stared at her.

She was wearing the same dress, the same shoes… her knees were still dirty from where she’d kneeled in the gravel, her hair disheveled. She’d come straight here from her apartment, he realized, his stomach dropping at the thought, leaving his lungs grappling for air.

What was she doing here?

She licked her lips - they were still faded from the dark pink lipstick she’d been wearing, faded from their kisses, the delicate skin around her mouth darkened in spots from his beard - and she glanced around, before looking down at her hands where they were clenched together.

She looked… _nervous._

_Scared._

Oliver’s chest clenched at the thought.

Felicity opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Felicity…” he whispered. She looked up, startled, and the entire night came back to him, and his chest felt even tighter as she gave him the same look she had on the bluff. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um…” She stopped… and he waited, not moving, not doing anything… “Oliver, I… I wanted to… I wanted to say… I’m sorry.”

Oliver furrowed his brow, taking an instinctive step towards her before he stopped himself. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Felicity; I should be the one-”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I do, I really do, because I… I wanted to come home with you.”

Oliver blinked. “What?”

“I wanted to come home with you,” she repeated, giving him a smile, and he noticed the light sheen of tears in her eyes. “But… I want more… Oliver, I want more than… what this has been.” His eyes widened, and he took another step towards her when she blurted, “But that’s the problem!” 

Oliver froze.

“I want _more_ ,” she said, tears making her words heavy. “I want…” She waved at the cot. “I want to sleep with you, and I mean that in the ‘not-having-sex’ sort of way, although I’d really like that part too - a lot - but the… sleeping, _just_ sleeping. I want to wake up with you. I want to know what kind of cereal you prefer, or what you think about spontaneous road trips, or why you tie your shoes the way you do… I want…” She pinched her lips, a tear slipping down her cheek; Oliver’s heart constricted at the _struggle_ on her face as she continued, “I want _you_ , Oliver, and that-”

He didn’t let her get the rest out.

Oliver was already moving, blood filling his ears as her words rattled inside him. _“I want you.”_

“Oliver-”

He cupped her face, his lips covering hers, swallowing the rest of her words. She gasped, and responded instantly, her chilly hands landing on his chest, her nails scrabbling for purchase, returning the kiss with equal ardor.

“Felicity,” he whispered, kissing her again, and again. Her grip on him tightened and Oliver yanked her closer, wrapping one arm around her, the other still cradling her face. A ho tear slipped out and he wiped it away. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m…” Felicity pulled back, her eyes squeezed shut, more tears leaking out. “I’m sorry, it’s not…” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. She pressed back just as hard, her hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him in closer. “Oliver… I’m scared, that this…”

Oliver’s heart skipped a painful beat at the tremor in her voice, his stomach dropping - he felt like he was on a rollercoaster, being shoved in every direction. He pulled back to look at her but she held on to him, not letting him move. Oliver held her tighter, pushing his hand into her hair to anchor her closer.

“What is it?” he asked softly and she shook her head against him.

“That this is… real, I guess.” She took a deep breath, pressing her face against his. “That what I feel is… isn’t… everything you feel.” Oliver frowned as she continued, “God, now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds so stupid, I can’t…” She let out a noise of frustration. “I’m scared that this is one-sided, that you aren’t on the same page, that you don’t want the same thing, that you already said you didn’t think we should continue this, and that actually having sex is the worst idea ever because it would mean that I’ll realize that I… that I really… that if it’s just sex to you…”

“Felicity…” Oliver pulled back, ignoring her hands trying to stop him. He pulled back just enough to cup her cheek again, rubbing his thumb under her eyes. God, she was giving him _everything_ , and he felt like soaring. “Look at me.”

She didn’t, for a moment, and he whispered it again, “Look at me, Felicity,” before she did… laying everything out for him to see, and he took it.

“It’s not just sex, Felicity. It never was.” Her eyes widened. “I want this.”

She stared at him, her eyes searching his… and then she whispered, “Oliver,” her voice trembling. 

He kissed her, softly, and she returned it just as gently… 

It slowly grew more fervent, more passionate. She kissed him like she hadn’t had him a few hours ago, like they hadn’t done anything the last several weeks. This was _different_ ; it was more. It was everything they hadn’t been saying, everything all those tiny moments between them had been building up to. Neither of them spoke - they didn’t have to.

Oliver took a step back, moving them towards the cot. When his knees bumped into it, he sat down, breaking the kiss, pulling her between his legs, barely remembering he was only wearing a damn towel. 

Time seemed to freeze for both of them as they took each other in. She kicked her heels off, dropping her a few inches, and Oliver pushed his hands around her hips, pulling her closer to him. She brushed her fingers through his hair, dragging her nails over his scalp.

Slowly, tentatively, Felicity leaned down and pressed her lips against his again… so softly, so… perfectly. He moaned, opening his mouth to hers. He reached up, pressing his hands up and under her jacket. She helped him pull her jacket off and it landed in a heap, his hands already moving to the zipper at her side. He pulled it down slowly, leaning back when it was all the way down.

He wanted to see her; he needed to see her, like this.

Her eyes were hooded behind her glasses, her mouth open in a soft pant as he pushed his hand into her dress. His eyes never left hers as he skimmed her flushed skin.

The new intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them as touched her, feeling like it was the first time…

In so many ways it was.

She shivered, goosebumps erupting across her skin. She shrugged her shoulders, letting the dress slip down and when it pooled at her waist, he helped her push it off, leaving her in nothing but her bra and panties. Oliver grasped her waist, his thumbs stroking her sensitive skin and murmured, “You are so beautiful,” his eyes still on hers.

Felicity brushed her fingers over his forehead and down the side of his face. “So are you.” And then her mouth slanted over his.

Oliver wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest, his hands roaming over her back, slipping over her bra. With a tiny moan, Felicity reached back and unhooked it, pulling back enough to slip it down her arms and discard it.

He watched her with hooded eyes, his hands circling her waist, keeping her still as he took her in. Her pert breasts beckoned to him, her nipples already hard and rosy, and Oliver leaned in, dragging his nose along a soft curve. Her breath hitched, her eyes on him… Oliver lightly dragged his fingertips across her back, making her shudder, as he gently explored her for the first time.

Oliver looked up at her as he wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. Felicity gasped his name, her eyelids fluttering when he swirled his tongue around the hard nub, sucking it into his mouth. He felt her thighs clenching, her hips yearning towards him, and he slid one hand down to her ass, pushing his hand under her panties. He grasped her cheek tightly, making her jerk against him, her hands fisting in his hair. 

“Oliver,” she gasped, pulling on his hair. The instant he let her nipple go with a wet pop, she leaned down, her mouth attacking his. She cupped his face in her tiny hands, angling his head to deepen the kiss.

Felicity’s hands dropped for a second, long enough to hook into her panties and push them down, and he followed her lead, pushing them down her thighs until they fell to the floor. Oliver quickly undid his towel, shoving it out of the way as she moved to straddle him.

Oliver hooked his hands in under her thighs, pulling her flush against him. His hard cock immediately slid against her wet sex, and her hips jerked, a needy whimper slipping out of her as she settled in his lap, her forehead pressed against his. He moaned, gritting his teeth, his body yearning towards hers…

He’d wanted this for so long, he’d waited for this for so long, and now that it was happening, it was almost too much. Everywhere she touched him burned with need, with desire, with… so much more.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, and he nodded rapidly. She ran her hands over his shoulders, her hips rotating slowly against him, rubbing her hot core along his length. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a smile, shaking his head. “I’m just… I’m okay. Felicity…” They stayed like that for a moment, moving against each other slowly, so slowly, until it started to become too much. “Are you… on something, like… the pill?”

“Oh,” Felicity replied, her hips stilling. “I didn’t even… I’m… yeah, I’m covered.”

“Good,” Oliver said, tipping his nose against hers, angling her face for a kiss. “Good.”

Felicity gave him a beautiful breathy little giggle, one that made his chest constrict. “Good, huh?”

He smiled against her lips. “I don’t have anything else,” he replied and she stilled, pulling back.

“You haven’t… I mean, before we-”

“No,” he said. “No, it’s only been you.”

She gave him a breathy gasp before he kissed her. He cupped the back of her neck as she lifted herself up, rubbing against him with a new urgency. 

“Felicity,” he whispered - he wanted to say her name forever - and he pulled back, his breathing heavy as he reached between them to grasp himself. He positioned himself at her entrance, watching her face… and then she slowly pushed down, taking him inside her. He groaned; it was slow, so slow, and they never looked away from each other as she too his entire length inside her.

He’d thought about what it would be like the first time he was inside her… how it would happen. If it’d be hard and fast, or gentle in the dark, under the covers… never like this. This was so… so much more. 

“Oliver,” she breathed, her voice cracking and she lifted herself up and thrust down on him. “Ooh god. You feel… so good.”

“Felicity,” he whispered, kissing her. When she fell down on him again, he pulled her legs up until they were wrapped around him, letting him go _deeper_ and she gasped, her inner walls clenching around him.

They wrapped themselves around each other and moved. The cot squeaked softy beneath them, the pleasure slowly building in time with their breathy gasps, their moans growing louder and louder, their movements becoming more hurried. They clung to each other, with each other, for each other, feeling nothing but that moment, knowing nothing else mattered but _this_. Them, being together, as one…

The hot burn started building at the base of his spine and he groaned, wrapping her tighter around him, one hand dropping down to press her more fully into him. When the movement pressed her clit against him, she shuddered. He did it again, and again, and her thrusts starting growing more urgent, her cries louder.

“Oh god, oh god…” Felicity rotated her hips against him as she bounced in short, hard thrusts on top of him, her cries growing sharper. “Oliver, Oliver… Oliver… Oliv-”

She pressed her forehead to his, holding him tighter, their combined breath fogging her glasses as she thrust down harder.

“Felicity,” Oliver panted, the pleasure inside him suddenly building rapidly. “Oh god… Felicity… come with me, come with me, come…”

“Ah ah aahh!” Felicity yelped, her back bowing as she came with a breathless cry, her walls clenching around him. 

“Oh… oh… fu…” Oliver held her tighter, his hand shoving her hips against him in quick successive thrusts that shoved him over the edge. 

Oliver came with a heavy shout, emptying everything he had inside her. He whimpered, her walls squeezing him tightly. Felicity held him as he jerked against her, shudders wracking his body. She pressed a light kiss to his forehead and down the bridge of his nose, reaching his lips. He sighed, holding her as close as he could with the little strength he had left. She whispered his name, kissing him again and again… saying all the things they couldn’t vocalize just yet.

They didn’t move for a long time, just holding each other, kissing… loving…

“Felicity…” he whispered, each syllable heavy with so much more… but they weren’t there yet.

After a moment, Oliver reached up, lazily removing her glasses. Felicity sighed, nuzzling him, before she buried her face in the crook of his neck. She dragged her tongue up the column of his throat as he ran his hands over her back and up into her hair. Oliver pulled her ponytail out, letting it fall over both of them; he pushed his hands up into the mass, massaging her scalp, loosening her hair even more, and she moaned her approval.

Felicity shifted, barely pressing her hips against his, and Oliver hissed when she pushed against his sensitive flesh, giving her a choked, “Oh god,” when she tightened her inner walls around him.

“Too soon?” she whispered with a smile, and he guffawed, dropping his hands to grip her hips. He yanked them down even harder. It was her turn to hiss, her back arching, pressing her breasts into his chest. Oliver did it again; he felt her walls fluttering around him as he panted in time with her gasps, feeling himself growing hard again inside her. “Oliver…”

Her hips started moving in tiny, uneven thrusts, her legs trembling with the effort. Oliver wrapped an arm around her hips and he shoved her down, pressing himself in as deep as he could and stood up, twisting them before he laid them both down on the cot, thrusting in deep.

“Ooh,” Felicity moaned, pulling her legs up and he sunk in her deeper… His hips moved minutely, barely enough to graze her clit, but she felt every inch of it, her hips pushing up against him, yearning for _more_.

“You are insatiable,” he murmured, propping himself up on his elbows to see her as he pressed his pelvic bone against hers. She giggled, and he inhaled sharply when her walls clamped down on him again.

He was still far too sensitive, too spent to do much more than move gently, but he needed to keep doing something. He never wanted to stop… he needed to feel her, as much as possible, for as long as he could… 

Felicity mewled underneath him. She gripped his shoulders, her dainty feet falling into the crooks of his knees.

Oliver watched her through hooded eyes. She was stunning; her hair was spread out around her, her skin flushed, covered in marks he didn’t remember leaving. She licked her lips slowly, thoroughly enjoying his gentle ministrations.

When she opened her eyes, she looked up at him with such a wanton look that his body immediately tightened with need.

God, how did she do that to him?

Oliver pushed himself as deep as he could, making her gasp… and stopped, resting in the perfect cradle of her hips.

Felicity blinked slowly, smiling languidly. She drew her hand up his neck to his face, her finger caressing his brow. “What?”

Oliver studied her, almost in awe, before he whispered, “I’m glad you’re here.”

She blinked. He caught a shadow cross her face, but she didn’t look away. When the flit of darkness disappeared - for good - a rush of gratitude flooded his system.

She nodded. “Me too.”

A grin flashed over his lips. Moving with slow precision, Oliver reached up to caress her face. He pressed a strand of hair off her forehead, smoothing the wayward hair down before softly touching her brow. She stayed still under his perusal, her breath hitching when he dragged his fingers down her cheek, across the corner of her mouth before it slid over her plump lips.

“Felicity…”

Oliver cupped her cheek. His heart skipped a beat when she naturally turned into it - for a vivid second he was taken back to another time when she had done the same thing, when she’d been shot saving Sara. 

He’d known he felt something for her then, but he’d been so adamant about _not_ feeling it.

_“You will always be my girl, Felicity.”_

She hummed, bringing him back to her, and Oliver swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, meeting her gaze again. “What changed your mind?”

Oliver watched a myriad of emotions skate across her features before she said, “I don’t know.” Felicity cupped his face between her hands, caressing him as he had her. She ran her index finger between his eyebrows, her eyes following the movement. “You looked at me… _different_ , tonight. I didn’t like it, I didn’t like that you’d been smiling…” She smiled at the memory before it faltered. “And then suddenly you weren’t. Because of me.

“I didn’t want to lose you… as you, you know? You’ve become so important to me, Oliver, such a huge part of my life, and I didn’t want… to lose that, to lose you…”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said softly, leaning into her touch before he gave her a gentle kiss.

“I was so sure that this was one-sided.” She still didn’t meet his eye, busying herself with following the soft lines of his beard before she continued, “I was okay with that too, at first, because it was easier to pretend I didn’t… feel the things I felt. But then it became more. I mean, it was already more, but it became more… _more_ , and I didn’t…” She finally met his gaze again, and just like before she laid out _everything_. “I don’t do well, losing people close to me… or when I might get hurt, like I… like I tend to when I’m…”

She didn’t have to finish the thought for him to know what she was saying.

Oliver cupped her face, the vehemence in his voice belying the quite whisper as he said, “I will never hurt you, Felicity. Ever.”

“I know,” she replied, just as softly, without hesitation. She blinked away the light sheen of tears in her eyes as she said with her own vehemence, “I know that.”

Oliver searched her eyes, wanting to _see_ it… and when he did, he whispered her name, achingly, the single word matching everything he’d heard in her voice. A heavy moment passed with just them, in their… bubble, their cocoon. Just them…

“Thank you,” Felicity whispered, and his heart felt so full he thought it might burst. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. She brought her legs up, reminding both of them of just where they were. Oliver moaned when he shifted inside her, his hard length slipping through her ample wetness, and she tightened her hold on him , pulling her legs closer to her chest, letting him sink in deeper.

Oliver blanketed her, pushing himself in as far as he could go, forcing her to break away, gasping for air. He cuddled her closer, pulling out achingly slow and he thrust back in. She choked on a moan when he did it again, her fingers starting to shake where she held him. Felicity pressed her lips to his once, twice… chaste, easy kisses that he gave back just as fully as he slowly… made love to her.

He was making love to her.

“Oh god, Felicity,” he whispered and she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his hips, locking her ankles together. Oliver peppered light kisses all over her, pressing his fingers into her tangled hair, anchoring her to him. His name slipped past her lips, sounding so perfect, and he kissed her again, and again.

Her cries suddenly changed, growing heavier with urgency, and Oliver pulled back, just enough to see her, to watch her. 

“Felicity, look at me…” 

Her eyes found his, and they stayed locked on each other. His thrusts grew deeper, her hips moving to meet his…

They held each other as close as they could, the cot rocking beneath them.

Oliver suddenly changed his angle, pushing down right on her clit and she cried out, her lids growing heavy, but she never looked away… even when her body tightened around him, when her mouth fell open in a breathless moan, when she gasped his name as she came for him, her eyes dilating, her skin growing dark with a pink flush. The sight of her coming apart, giving herself to him completely, had Oliver thrusting into her wet heat faster, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Oh… god, Felicity, Felicity, Felic… aahhh!”

With one hard final thrust, Oliver came inside her again, clenching her so tightly to him he knew he was going to leave bruises… but he didn’t let go.

He never let go.

Oliver didn’t remember moving.

The next thing he was aware of was the harsh contrast of the chilly foundry air slicing across his skin from the wet marks Felicity left all over his chest. He fully woke when her tongue swirled around one of his nipples, before moving lower, kissing, nipping and sucking her way across him. When one of her nails dragged down over his nipple, Oliver hissed. He yanked her up, his mouth claiming hers as he pulled her legs around him. Felicity straddled him and reached between them, grasping him, positioning the head of his cock at her entrance before she sunk down on him, taking him inside her with one hard thrust.

He woke her an hour later.

Her was back pressed to his chest, his hand sliding around her and between her legs. Groggy with sleep, she murmured his name, opening herself for him… so similar to their first night in the foundry, except this time he thrust up into her, filling her from behind. His fingers found her clit and he rubbed her until she was weeping with pleasure, her silken walls pulling his orgasm out of him with a rough shout of her name.

When she’d regained enough of her strength to turn around, she pushed herself into his arms, cuddling against him as they fell into a deep sleep, wrapped around each other, limbs tangled…

Content.

_Happy._

*

Her phone alarm woke her an hour later.

Felicity’s head shot up, tangled hair creating a wicked halo around her head as she looked around blearily, trying to remember where the hell she was and why the hell her phone wasn’t sitting on her nightstand where she’d left it… Her sleep-addled mind slowly reminded her that she _hadn’t_ left it there.

Oliver groaned, tightening his arm around her, digging his face into her shoulder. 

“No,” he croaked. She barely heard him over the melodious tone coming from her phone. “Make it stop.”

Felicity chuckled sleepily. “Sorry,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, intending to get up but then she kissed him again, and again. She kissed his temple, his ear, his neck, unable to help herself because… because last night had really happened, and the more she woke up, the more she realized she was absolutely beside herself with…

_Joy._

_Elation._

_Happiness._

Oliver moaned in contentment, holding her closer, kissing her shoulder, and Felicity felt like flying.

But her phone didn’t stop. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said softly and he moaned again, this time in disagreement, and she grinned. Felicity lifted his arm off, pausing long enough to kiss him again, this time on brow… and then his nose and once on the mouth…

That was a mistake, because he turned into the kiss, his hand appearing out of nowhere to hold her head still as he kissed her thoroughly.

Felicity smiled against his mouth. “Morning.”

He grunted his greeting.

“I’ll be right back. I wasn’t lying when I said I had to open this morning.”

Oliver’s face scrunched, his eyes still closed, his hand appearing around her again. “Don’t go.”

Felicity bit her lip. She stared at him, something she still really didn’t want to name quite yet filling her chest as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, Oliver,” her words filled with much, much more than simply getting up to shut her phone off.

He smiled - a real, beautiful Oliver Queen smile - and she kissed him once more before sliding off the cot.

The world was fuzzy without her glasses, but she managed to find a discarded dress shirt piled next to the cot - it was _freezing_ that early in the morning - as Oliver shifted on the cot. She glanced back to find him awake, watching her. He grinned lazily, his eyes dark at the sight of her wearing his shirt, taking all of her in; the look on his face gave her butterflies.

She’d be wearing _these_ much more often.

Felicity scrunched her nose at him before grabbing her phone. She turned the alarm off, blissful silence filling the room once more, and quickly dialed her boss’ phone number, making her way to the bathroom. She left him a quick message, her voice rough from the night before, grating from lack of sleep and so, so much more, before she slipped into the bathroom.

She peed, wincing when she felt how very _sore_ she was down there. It had been a long, long while since she’d been with anyone, and Oliver wasn’t exactly _small_. Felicity giggled at the thought - oh, he was so not small - and wiped herself gingerly, feeling an odd sense of delight at the combination of her juices and his cum all over her thighs.

Felicity washed her hands, and then looked in the mirror.

She looked… _different_. Her lips were swollen, the skin abraded from his beard. She had marks all over her neck and down her chest from his lips and teeth. Her makeup was smudged to hell and her hair… god, her hair was ridiculous but she looked so…

Felicity bit her lip, taking a deep breath… and smiled. The smile quickly broke into a breathy laugh and she shook her head at herself.

She was _happy_.

This was so much more than everything… _ever_.

“Wow,” she whispered.

She was with Oliver.

She was _with_ Oliver. 

A powerful bout of euphoria suddenly swelled in her chest and she covered her face, shaking her head again, grinning so hard it hurt. 

She let out a little squeal, immediately quieting it when she realized what she was doing, before she did a little jig. Her body was so achy - _used_ \- and it felt amazing, because it was from Oliver. Oliver had done that to her, and she had done the same to him…

And they were going to be doing so, so much more.

Felicity laughed again, inhaling deeply. 

With an, “Oh my god, this is really happening,” Felicity went about straightening her hair, wiping away the liner and mascara making her look like a raccoon. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. She should think about bringing a bag over, or was that too soon? She should keep something here anyway, how many late nights had she had with Oliver - and not even doing _that_.

“Oh my _god_ , this is really happening,” she whispered to her reflection; she got a huge grin in response.

Felicity left the bathroom, still shaking her head - in disbelief, really, because _wow_ \- and found Oliver waiting for her, gloriously naked.

“Oh,” she said, her heart jumping into her throat - oh god, had he _heard her_ in there? She smiled at him and blushed when she noted his very tall, very eager erection. “Well, hi there.”

Oliver didn’t say anything. His eyes were dark, his skin flushed, and she barely got out an, “Oliv-” before he was on her, cupping her face possessively, his lips falling on hers. 

Felicity moaned, grasping onto his arms and then he was spinning them, pushing her up against a wall. Before she knew what was happening, Oliver had her shirt spread open, his hand dancing down her body and between her legs.

“Oh god,” she whimpered. She was so tender. She shoved her hands into his hair, digging her nails into his scalp, yanking on him at the pleasure-pain mix he was eliciting from her as he rubbed her, spreading her juices all over her very, very sensitive clit. “Oliver… Oliver, please… that…”

And then he was gone, sinking to his knees before her.

Felicity inhaled quickly as he lifted one of her legs and threw it over his shoulder, his head already ducking down to taste her. The second his tongue darted out and touched her, her head flew back, slamming into the wall, but she didn’t feel it. She arched into his mouth, her hands still in his hair, holding him tightly as he sucked and licked, building her up so quickly that her entire body felt like it was on fire.

Her light cries of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, I can’t, Oliver, I… I can’t… don’t… don’t stop…” filled the room. She felt harsh tingles growing with force along every nerve ending, growing hotter and hotter as he ate her out with a ferociousness that was alarmingly sexy for so early in the morning.

Felicity babbled mindlessly, pulling on his hair so hard her own fingers started to hurt as she ground down on him.

Oliver suddenly shoved his face right against her, wrapping his lips around her clit. He sucked _hard_.

Her orgasm shattered inside her with a heady cry; she felt it from the tips of her fingers down to her toes as it rocketed through her. 

Oliver stood, wiping his mouth.

“Oh god,” she moaned helplessly at the sight, and he grinned before his mouth covered hers.

She only tasted herself on his lips and tongue as he ravaged her. His hands wrapped around her waist, sliding her up the wall. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he barely gave her a second to do anything but _feel_ when his hard cock slid against her delicate folds, finding her entrance…

Oliver thrust into her, like he’d been doing it for so much longer than their single night together, filling her completely.

He made her come again, his hand fisted in her hair, her body wrapped around him. He buried his face in her neck as he pounded her into the wall, and she shuddered with a bone-deep pleasure when she felt his release coating her from the inside out, his shout vibrating from his chest into hers…

She took him again on the cot… and then he bent her over in the shower… and then they made love one more time before sleep claimed them both.

They didn’t leave the foundry all day.

Oliver discovered she was ticklish on the outer side of her left arm, much to her chagrin.

Felicity learned why the color blue was his favorite, and how integral Raisa’s role was in the story.

When they ordered from the Chinese place down the street, Felicity found out that Oliver ordered sweet and sour chicken, but always - _always_ \- meant to order sesame instead. That was a Tommy story. 

Oliver asked her why she liked spontaneous road trips and she told him about how she’d come to leave Las Vegas. She’d been accepted to MIT, and she was scheduled to fly out towards the end of the summer, but her friend Carrie had just bought a cheap junk car, and for some reason they thought it would be fun to _drive_ to Boston instead. She went into thorough detail about why that had been a very, very bad idea.

When the sun started dipping below the horizon again, they migrated to Felicity’s apartment, where she fell asleep on him watching an old Doctor Who episode.

Oliver carried her into the bedroom, where he proceeded to wake her up in the best way possible.

*

They took their time, because they had time.

They didn’t define what they were just yet; they were happy just going home - usually to Felicity’s - at the end of the day and _existing_ with each other. They didn’t tell Diggle or Roy, and they wouldn’t until they had a much more serious talk that didn’t wind up with their clothes strewn all over the place.

But they would… eventually; it was just them, and they liked it that way. Still, Felicity saw the smiles on Diggle’s face and the raised eyebrow from Roy, probably because they had a hard time keeping the dopey smiles off their faces, their looks low-key, the lingering touches less linger-y… 

Two days after that night in the foundry, they nearly broke the cot and Felicity talked him into letting her buy him a bed, especially when one of the springs on the stupid thing snapped, forcing them to the ice cold concrete floor in one of their more heated moments.

The next day, they christened the bed.

Two days later they spent an entire night talking about how to get Queen Consolidated back, and he listened with a content smile about how he was going to win the Board over.

One day after that, she bought a fern for the foundry, wondering if maybe she was getting a little _too_ sappy…

… and then Oliver asked her out, on a real date.

A _real_ date, like…

_“Felicity… would you like to go out to dinner with me?”_

_“I’m being serious here, Oliver.”_

_“So am I.”_

_“I don’t want to read… too much into this, but are you… asking me out on a date? Like an actual date? Like a… date-date?”_

_“Su… I mean, the implication being with dinner that you…”_

_“Usually I’m the one talking in sentence fragments.”_

_“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”_

_“Yes.”_

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am considering this an alternate beginning to Season 3. If canon continues on as it does, or if it changes as a result of the relationship that blossomed out of this series, that's up to you. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with this story! Please let me know what you thought!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	32. You’re the Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (High school AU)
> 
> Smut Prompt - Anonymous asked: Prompt (if your looking for them): Oliver helps Felicity find her g-spot/have first orgasm.

They were supposed to be studying. That was why she’d come over, because studying was important, and her boyfriend needed all the help he could get. Alright, no, not really, he was one of the smartest people she’d ever met, but he was really bad at applying said smarts to anything related to a passing grade.

The night had started out with good intentions: she’d come over for dinner with the Queens, like she normally did whenever she was over, and they had gone into the library to study. That had lasted about half an hour before Oliver’s wandering fingers were distracting enough for her to forget that there was a math textbook in front of them. Soft kisses over her shoulder and neck had turned into demanding kisses that left her fingers tingling.

They’d been interrupted by the sound of a clearing throat and she’d shoved Oliver back so hard and fast that he’d nearly fallen off his seat.

_“We’re heading out to the benefit gala,” Robert said from the entrance of the library, his eyes filled with amusement. “I told your mother that Felicity was heading home now.”_

_“Oh, right,” Felicity said, gathering her books. “I’ll just be… I’ll go.”_

_Robert’s only response was to pinch his lips to keep from smiling again before he turned, his loud voice carrying throughout the foyer as he greeted his wife, and then the fanfare of getting her wrap on, the driver announcing the car was ready… and then they left._

_“We didn’t get much studying done…” Felicity started as she tucked her books back into her bag. Oliver stopped her when she was about to zip it up, his hand covering hers, his arm wrapping around her hip, pulling her closer, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. “Oliver… I have to go.”_

_“No, you really don’t,” Oliver had replied, his voice muffled, the start of stubble on his chin and cheeks scratching at her. “They’ll be gone for hours.”_

_“Your mother thinks I’m going home,” Felicity hissed, and Oliver chuckled._

_“Yes, she thinks you are.”_

And now here they were, lying on his bed, watching Mission Impossible on his impossibly large television, their hands doing much more than was appropriate for an action film.

Felicity sighed, pushing herself closer to his chest, pressing her face against his neck, dropping a series of feather-light kisses over his pulse point. He made the cutest, sweetest little moaning sound and she did it again, this time dragging her tongue across his skin. His fingers tightened on her, his hips surging against hers and she felt his very evident arousal.

They hadn’t slept together yet, it was a line they had yet to cross, one that they were taking their sweet time getting to.

When she’d first met Oliver Queen, he was exactly what she’d thought he’d be: obnoxious and living up to his douchebag reputation. But then… but then he’d been _persistent_. It didn’t matter that she was in the Math Club, or she was the president of the Chess Club, or that she had the best GPA in their entire class, or that she knew nothing about the sports that littered his free time… he still pursued her.

She’d been pissed at first, and had told him off when he’d snuck in a kiss. She’d never had a boyfriend, she’d never been interested in dating anyone until she’d met _him_ , and that just pissed her right off, because of course the one person she is finally attracted to , someone she wants to spend more time with, is the one person who is her complete and utter opposite in every single way.

After telling him she wasn’t into the whole one night stand thing with the jock of all jocks, and that maybe he’d better start chasing something more his speed, he’d just sat there… and then he’d gotten up, leaving her alone in the library.

The crushing disappointment when he’d gotten up without another word had been a little too potent - considering she was supposed to not feel those things for him - and Felicity had almost let herself cry herself to sleep that night, but she didn’t. She wasn’t going to be that girl.

The next day someone left a rose on her locker.

And the next day… and the next day…

And then the notes started.

He’d wooed her, the big dumb jerk, and she finally gave in after sixty-seven roses. (She hadn’t told him yet, but she’d saved every single rose).

Felicity hooked her leg over his hip and pulled him in, pushing her hips up against his awkwardly, but it was enough to give her a little friction, just like… _right there_.

“Oh,” Felicity gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders for more leverage. Her eyes slipped shut, her thigh muscles tightening to pull him in closer as she rubbed against him. Oliver groaned, his breath coming out in harsh pants… but the only thing he did to move was grab her hips and pull her closer.

Tom Cruise talking faded into nothingness as they rubbed against each other, their lips coming together again in a wet kiss that made her shiver. He was letting her control everything, letting her do everything first and she was grateful, because it was easier, but at the same time… she didn’t know what to do.

“Oliver…” she breathed, pulling back, stilling her hips. “Is this… are we…”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head, but his fingers digging into her hips the heavy bulge in his jeans pressing against her told a different tale. “Let’s go slow, okay?”

“Slow? But I don’t…” Felicity cupped his face with one hand and grabbed his shoulder, trying to yank him over on top of her but he didn’t budge. “Oliver… come here.”

“Felicity…” He moaned again, almost giving in before he pushed her back. Felicity frowned. “Get up.”

Had she moved too fast, was she not doing something right, what was… “What?”

“Get up,” he repeated, rolling back and off the bed. He landed and spun to face her, gesturing with his hands for her to stand up. She did, slowly, standing up on her knees. She was about to slide off the bed but he caught her hands and pulled her towards him, gesturing with his head for her to stand.

Felicity hesitated for a second, wondering where this was going, before she stood up on the bed. Oliver’s hands slid down her smooth legs and back up, his eyes on her face as he touched her, and she bit her lip at the trail of fire he left in his path. His hands slid up and over her skirt and he hooked them in the band, her heart skipping approximately seven beats, before pausing.

He lifted an eyebrow in question, and she nodded.

Oliver pulled her skirt down, her hands landing on his shoulders for balance as he helped her step out of them. She expected her panties to go next but instead he tugged her back down so she dropped to her knees and he slid his hands up underneath her shirt.

Her heart was positively humming inside her chest, and she wondered if he could feel it vibrating through her skin. She helped pull her shirt off, throwing it to the side. His hands - wow, had they always been that warm? They felt like they were scorching her - slid around her back and unhooked her bra.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice cracking and she nodded rapidly, clearing her throat. He pulled her bra off, letting it drop to the floor… and he stepped back.

Felicity tugged her lips into her mouth, already feeling the hot prickle of a blush pushing across her skin as he took her in. She fought the urge to cross her arms, but she couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting with her hair. He didn’t say anything, just looking at her, making her blush even more, and she covered her mouth with her hand, looking away.

“Felicity,” he whispered, and she looked back at him. “You are beautiful.”

Felicity blinked.

She’d been told she was pretty before, she knew she was pretty, that she wasn’t unpleasing to the eye, that sometimes she could really rock a dress and makeup that might even make her really pretty, but she’d never heard… _beautiful_.

Oliver had called her beautiful before, sure, but not… not like that.

She just blinked at him, and Oliver smiled, moving to her again. She licked her lips, anticipation flooding her veins along with adrenaline-fueled trepidation, and she dropped her hands to her panties.

“No, leave them,” he said and she furrowed her brow. “Let’s lay down.”

But he was still fully dressed. “Oliver-”

He wrapped his hands around her waist and pushed her back down and she went willingly. He joined her, neither noticing the flickering lights coming from the television, or the sound of explosions… it was just them.

Oliver wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his chest, his other hand drifting down her side. His fingers danced over her, grazing the side of her breast before moving back down her stomach. Felicity could only imagine how much she was blushing, how oddly exposed she felt because she was the only one not wearing clothes… but she couldn’t deny how very, very _good_ he felt.

She sighed his name, and he moved his hand lower to her hip… and then he slid it over her stomach… and down into her panties.

Felicity gasped, one hand flying down to his hand, the other gripping his t-shirt in a tight fist as his fingers rested over her the curly hair covering her sex… She tried to take a deep breath, but her throat was dry and she swallowed rapidly, her eyes squeezed shut. His arm flexed under her fingers as he moved his hand in further, and his fingers parted her puffy lips, touching her… _everywhere_.

“Oh,” Felicity said. “Oh wow.”

Oliver chuckled, dropping a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth before he laid back. Felicity looked at him; he was watching her as his fingers swirled in the wetness between her thighs, spreading it everywhere, touching her… His eyes were hooded and he licked his lips. Felicity wanted to do something for him, involve him somehow, but then he found her clit, rubbing it softly, and she forgot about everything but his fingers.

Felicity was pretty well-acquainted with her body - you didn’t date someone like Oliver Queen and have some of the heaviest and delicious makeout sessions ever and _not_ need some pressure relieved - but she’d never had someone _else_ do it. He was tentative, but… but it was working, whatever he was doing, because she felt the slow hot tightening of pleasure at her core starting to…

“Oh god,” she whispered, arching into his hand. It felt so _good_. “Oliver…”

“Lay on your back,” he said, his voice rough and she did it without hesitation, his arm still cradled under her shoulders, her legs falling open.

He slid his fingers away from her clit, making her whimper, and down to her entrance. She bit her lip, her eyes flying back to his face. He gently pressed one finger inside her, and she choked out a moan, her hips moving up to meet him. He pushed it in as deep as he could go, wiggling it - she felt every single movement he made inside her. He sighed, gritting his teeth, and pressed in a second finger.

He was going so slow, being so gentle, so cautious…

Felicity felt more than pleasure starting to blossom deep in her chest as he touched her almost reverently…

“Oliver, that…” She moaned and he flattened his hand, pressing his palm to her clit. “Oh!”

Felicity’s hand flew down before she could stop it and covered his. Her panties were wet as she pushed his fingers deeper inside herself, pushing his hand down harder… and she thrust up, grinding herself against him. It was bold, something she never thought she’d do _ever_ but with Oliver… with Oliver, it was okay. She trusted him, she…

“Felicity,” he moaned. “That is… oh god.”

She barely heard him, all her attention focused on the pleasure coil growing tighter in her core as she ground up on his hand. She bit her lip, not seeing Oliver move until his mouth closed around one of her nipples.

“Aah!” she cried out, grinding down harder on his hand. His fingers were barely moving inside her; she only felt the hard rub of his palm on her clit… but it was enough, it was more than enough, especially when he curled his fingers slightly and hit _something_ inside her. “Oh god, oh god, right there, there!”

Oliver did it again, his tongue swirling around her nipple, and she ground down harder, chasing the hot burn building inside her. She’d never felt anything like this, not like… _this_. He curled his finger again and she gasped, and then Oliver pressed against something inside her, and the pleasure immediately switched over to something much, much deeper, something she’d never felt before.

“Oh my god…” It felt like the pleasure was echoing in her bones, radiating out of them, coursing through her like lava. “Oh my… god, oh god…”

Felicity thrust into his hand, hers pushing his in deeper, his fingers massaging something inside her, his palm rubbing right on her clit, his mouth hot and warm on her breast and…

Her pleasure peaked.

“Oooh god, don’t stop! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t…!”

Felicity came with a loud yelp, her back bowing off the bed, shoving his hand as hard as she could against herself as her release washed through her. She felt her inner walls clamping around his fingers and her body positively hummed with pleasure. She thrust up clumsily into his hand, riding the waves of the orgasm until there was nothing left. She fell back onto the bed…

Her skin felt like it was on fire.

Oliver released her nipple, her hand still holding his deep inside her, as she tried to catch her breath. She’d never felt anything like _that_ before.

“That was amazing,” Oliver was murmuring, pressing his face to hers. “You are so beautiful, so amazing, Felicity, I…”

He groaned, and she moved her hand when he shifted, letting him pull his out of her panties. When his fingers, thoroughly wet from her, touched her side, a thrill and shot of nerves sliced through her body at the stark intimacy of it.

“Oliver,” she whispered, pulling on him so she could get closer, but Oliver was already moving. He lifted himself up and over her, settling between her thighs, still fully clothed, and his mouth covered hers.

Felicity moaned, arching into him. When he pressed himself between her legs, she broke her lips away from his, crying out. He was hard, so hard, and the seam of his jeans was pressing right against her sensitive clit, making her shudder. Oliver rubbed himself against her, in rough jerky movements, burying his face in her neck, strangled moans and cries muffled against her skin. He gripped her hips _hard_ , holding her still as he thrust against her. Felicity pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his hips as he clung to her, rubbing against her, harder and harder…

A moment later he stiffened, his back arching up and off her and she watched his face as he came, groaning her name, something hot and wet spilling in his jeans, against her thigh…

“Oh… fuck, Felicity,” Oliver gasped, collapsing on top of her and she accepted every inch of his weight.

They didn’t move for a long while, Oliver lifting himself off her enough so she wasn’t being entirely crushed, and it was a longer while past that before they realized the credits on the movie were rolling.

Contentment soared through Felicity’s veins as Oliver shifted on top of her. She’d never felt so comfortable in her entire life, and that was an interesting thing to say considering she was lying on Oliver’s bed, mostly naked while he was still very clothed and very on top of her.

She didn’t have to check the time to know it was very late.

“I should probably go,” she whispered against his temple, stroking his neck, making him shiver.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Neither do I.”

“So stay.”

“That is a horrible idea, Oliver; your mother would kill me.”

“No, she’d kill me, you’d be fine,” he said with a smile in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, okay, because that’s better.”

Oliver chuckled, pulling back enough to kiss her. She sighed, returning the soft touch with equal tenderness. Oliver pressed his forehead against hers. “Stay… just a little longer.”

Felicity stared into his eyes, the loving warmth staring back at her making something deep in her chest ache. She nodded, and kissed him again, and again…

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/122101394429/prompt-if-your-looking-for-them-oliver-helps)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	33. No Condoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Prompt - Anonymous asked: Promt- olicity wanting another round but have no condoms left but can't stop themselves

Felicity could tell what time it was by the position of the sunlight streaming through the window. She blinked, staring at it lazily; she was completely content to never move again as long as she could stay right there, in bed, with the man she loved, forever.

It was almost three in the afternoon, and they hadn’t gotten up save to use the bathroom and to get some food - which wasn’t much, there were only leftover strawberries and a few pieces of bread in the fridge, but it was enough to let them stay in bed until absolutely necessary.

Felicity shifted onto her back, turning to see if Oliver was awake. The second she looked over at him, he opened his eyes, smiling softly. She returned it, the smile a mere dusting on her lips as she leaned in and nuzzled her nose against his, urging him to tip his head back so she could kiss him.

She loved when they got home from business trips. It was always this: as much them time as they could squeeze in before the real world barged back in, and that usually meant staying in bed for as long as possible.

Oliver angled his head, deepening the kiss, and she moaned, turning more fully towards him. His hand found her knee, and it slowly drifted down her thigh, towards her waiting sex. Felicity sighed, spreading her legs for him, but he trailed his fingers around instead, up and over her hip.

His hips pressed against her, his erection sliding over her naked thigh.

“Oliver,” Felicity hummed, and he kissed her once, twice more before pulling back. He pressed a soft kiss to her nose and settled back against his pillow again, his eyes never leaving her face. “Morning, Mr. Queen.”

Oliver scrunched his face. “Morning was a while ago.”

“Meh,” Felicity said, shrugging, stretching, very, very aware of his hand still drifting softly over her skin. “It’s all relative.”

Oliver chuckled quietly. She turned to look at him again, and found him watching his fingers as he dragged them over her upper thigh.

Felicity lifted her leg, and his hand slid down to rest on her hip, his fingers still stroking her.

They both watched as she slowly moved her hand to cover his, her fingers sliding between his for a moment, slowly urging his hand closer to where she needed him. They both felt the hitch in her breath when their fingers grazed the tender area between her legs, felt the heat emanating from her center, her skin trembling in growing anticipation…

They’d made love six times already that day, once when they got home, once in the shower, twice before falling asleep and twice more after waking up… and she still wanted him. It wasn’t even a _want_ ; it was more of a need. Her body called for him, constantly, always aching to feel him inside her, filling her…

A rush of warmth flooded between her thighs, and her inner walls clenched, needing the emptiness filled.

She took a deep, shaky breath, creating a deep concave under her ribs.

Oliver moved his hand between her legs, gripping her inner thigh hard as he moved closer, pushing his erection against her again.

It slid over her thigh, leaving smeared precum in its path.

“Oliver,” she moaned, closing her eyes, and he gripped her thigh harder, to the point of pain… She squeezed his hand, arching her back, pressing her breasts into the cool air. When she looked back at him, he was staring at her peaked nipples, his mouth open in a soft needy pant.

Just the sight of his eyes darkening, his breath getting heavier, his fingers tightening on her… her nipples hardened even more, almost painfully.

“We’re out of condoms,” he whispered.

Felicity nodded. “Yeah.”

Oliver licked his lips - and god, that was almost her undoing; she hissed under her breath, her sex throbbing at the thought of his tongue on her - and dragged his eyes back up to her. At the dark question in his eyes, the aching need that mirrored her own, Felicity nodded quickly, gasping a strangled, “Yes,” and he surged up, his lips covering hers.

The kiss was filled with unbridled passion, the need and desire between them coming to a head. It spiraled out of control as she nipped at his teeth and he pressed her deeper into the mattress, his stubble scraping at her skin. His fingers dug into her thigh, spreading her even more, and Felicity gasped when the cool air in their apartment attacked her wet sex.

With a groan, Felicity broke the kiss and pushed on his shoulder, shoving him onto his back. She was up and straddling him in the same breath, and she reached between them, gripping his hard cock.

“Felicity…” Oliver inhaled quickly, his eyes on her hand wrapped around him, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

Felicity stroked him, slowly, running her thumb over the head, spreading more of the seeping precum. He hissed, his eyes narrowing.

“Oliver,” she whispered, the word filled with everything she should be saying out loud, but it got lost in the white noise rushing through her head. Her thighs started to quiver with need, the urge to grip him and thrust down on him almost overwhelming. “Oliver, will you…”

Oliver nodded rapidly, running his hands up her waist to her ribs, his eyes flying to hers. “I’ve got you.” Felicity stared into his eyes, her hand still stroking him slowly, and he repeated the words, “I’ve got you, Felicity,” and she whimpered at his words.

Felicity lifted herself up, positioned him at her entrance and thrust down without preamble.

“Oh god!” Oliver groaned, throwing his head back, his hands falling down to her hips.

Felicity shuddered on top of him, at the sensation of _him_ inside her, without anything between them. Oh _god_ , it felt so good, _he_ felt so good… Felicity sat up, taking him more deeply, settling her hips more fully, and planted her hands on his hard stomach. She lifted herself up, and dropped down, rolling her hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, softly. She did it again, and again, lifting and thrusting against him, feeling something gloriously different without the condom in place, like she always did when it was just _them_. It was raw, more… powerful. She felt every inch of him inside her and she whimpered, picking up her pace.

“Oliver…” Felicity dug her nails into his stomach, anchoring herself as she bounced on top of him, taking him in deeper and deeper each time, if that was even possible. She felt more and more of him with each stroke, each deep thrust, filling her more fully…

Her breasts bounced in time with thrusts and she let her head fell back, her hair tickling her shoulders deliciously as she rode him.

“Oliver… oh god…”

Oliver planted his feet, angling his hips to meet her thrusts and the slam of his pelvis into hers sent delicious shocks through her. She cried out as he gripped her hips, following her rolling motion, giving it more power…

His moans filled the room, echoing hers, and she knew he was close… so close… but she…

Felicity gasped and fell forward, her nails digging into his chest to keep herself upright as her other hand slid between them and found her clit.

“Yes,” Oliver whispered, nodding, his eyes on her hand, on where his cock disappeared inside her with their rapid thrusts. “Come for me, Felicity, come for me…”

“Oliver,” Felicity moaned, her eyes squeezed shut. Oliver groaned, his movements becoming faster.

She opened her eyes, watching him watch them… her hand moved faster, faster, and the pressure inside her built rapidly… Her eyes slammed shut as the pressure burned inside her with urgency, with the need to _break_ , and…

Without any warning, her release crashed through her and Felicity shouted, her back bowing, her fingers still moving in rapid circles over her clit.

Oliver cursed loudly as her inner walls clamped down on him, and sat up, flipping them. He shoved himself up, one hand planted next to her head, the other sliding down and gripping her leg, pushing it up against her chest.

“Ooh… Oliver…!” Felicity cried out at the angle change, the way it pulled on her tender flesh. Oliver started thrusting wildly into her.

The sound of his their skin slapping and the wet sound of her sex filled the room. His moans grew louder and louder as he thrust into her powerfully, shoving her up the bed… Felicity reached up, grabbing the headboard, her other hand wrapping around his wrist, holding on as pleasurable shocks made her eyelids flutter shut, his name a litany on her lips as he chased his own end, using her body, using her…

“Oh… god, oh… Felicity…!”

Oliver pulled out at the last second and his hand flew to his cock, rubbing it rapidly. Felicity stared at the heady sight between her legs, her curls wet with both of them, his cock glistening from her juices, slick and smooth in his hand as he rubbed…

Oliver came with a sharp, “Aaahhh!” a quick second later, shooting his cum all over her stomach.

He kept rubbing, his body jerking, more of his cum landing on her stomach, her breasts, the bed… until he let out a choked moan, and his body deflated.

Oliver landed on the bed next to her, breathing hard, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Felicity hummed, and Oliver opened his eyes in time to see her reach down, and run her finger through some of his cum.

She brought it to her lips and sucked her finger clean.

“Oh god, Felicity,” he moaned, closing his eyes again, digging his face into side. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she replied. Oliver moved up her body lethargically until he could rest his head on her chest, his hot breath dancing over her nipple. He relaxed against her, their legs interlaced, his cum drying on her skin, his wet cock pressed into her side…

He took a deep breath, settling against her completely. Felicity pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, dragging her fingers over his scalp…

“Love you,” he breathed as he fell dozed off again.

They didn’t move for anything in the world.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/122123317174/promt-olicity-wanting-another-round-but-have-no)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	34. No Touching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I can’t touch myself, neither can you.”

  
  
([© Photo: Nicola De Luigi](http://nichotina.tumblr.com/post/62404673552/c-photo-nicola-de-luigi))

“If I can’t touch myself, neither can you.”

The words came out in a husky rasp that had Felicity pausing where she stood at the foot of the bed. She raised an eyebrow, cocking her head… and then she licked her lips - _slowly_.

Oliver bit back a moan at the sight of her wetting her plump lips; they were already swollen from his kisses and having them wrapped around his cock. Now they looked so much more… red, tender… _used_ …

She rounded the bed again, the thigh-high stiletto boots she wore - the _only_ things she wore - making her legs and ass… _mouthwatering_.

“I didn’t realize you were calling the shots here, Oliver,” Felicity said, her voice deceptively soft.

Oliver’s only response was to tug on the scarves she had knotted around his wrists, his arms spread above his head, tied to the bedposts. She was surprisingly - _annoyingly_ \- good at tying knots; he’d already tried to yank out of them when she’d spent an inordinate amount of time teasing him by dragging her tongue up and down his shaft in intricate patterns.

“So you’re saying…” Felicity started, slowly lifting her leg to kneel her knee on the mattress, spreading herself for his hungry eyes. Oliver couldn’t bite back the groan at the sight of her wet sex - the small strip of hair she kept there actually _glistened_ with her arousal. Her hooded eyes watched his reaction as she lifted her hand and dragged her fingertips through the valley between her breasts and down her stomach. She moved slowly, so slowly, and Oliver didn’t even blink in case he missed anything. “I can’t touch myself?”

“No,” he whispered, his throat dry, his lungs trying to remember how to breathe as she slid her hand further down and over her wet nether lips. He groaned, his hips surging up, his cock aching to be inside her. “Felicity…”

“Okay.” She pulled her hand back and smiled. “I can do that.”

Oliver froze at that, his eyes shooting up to hers in question. He’d expected a fight, for her to do something ‘mean’ like come back and force him to eat her out for a few hours or so - at least - but instead she looked… serene. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

She smirked, taking her leg back and turned, heading into the bathroom. If someone had given Oliver a mirror, pure pain would have reflected back at him as he had to watch her walk away, watch those goddamn stilettos make her ass _bounce_ as she moved.

She disappeared for a second and came back out… with a hand towel. He furrowed his brow, and she merely smiled at him.

“No touching myself,” Felicity said, nodding her head. “I can honor that request.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, the guttural sound of his voice making it sound like he’d swallowed a handful of gravel. He watched her move to the other side of the room where two accent chairs sat, both facing out towards the gardens their room overlooked. She bent over - Oliver clenched his jaw when he caught her puffy sex peeking through her thighs - and tugged the chair, moving it so it faced Oliver. His mind must have been a little too sex-addled because he wasn’t catching on to what she was doing. “Felicity?”

“In a second, Oliver,” she replied, and then she laid the towel out on one of the arms of the chair… and Oliver’s mouth went dry.

She wouldn’t.

Oliver tugged at his bonds, but they held, and she didn’t even bother looking back at him before she lifted her knee, and leaned over the chair.

“Oh fuck, Felicity,” he whimpered, tugging again, his cock swelling at the sight of her plump ass flexing as she situated herself over the arm. “Felicity…”

She settled on the arm, a tiny sigh escaping when the soft material of the towel rubbed against her sex. She looked back at him over her shoulder. “This doesn’t count, right?”

“Felicity…” he said, _begging_. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m only doing what you asked,” she replied, turning back around and leaning over the chair and _fuck_ , it gave him the perfect view of her glorious ass as she rotated her hips, so deliberately it made his head spin.

Her breath hitched, her body tensing, and his tensed right along with hers. She moaned and moved her hips again, rotating them in a perfect circle, rubbing herself right against the arm of the chair. Oliver gave up on the scarves wrapped around his wrists, the skin there already red and aggravated, and instead slumped back on the bed, watching his wife as she moved on the chair.

It was erotic as hell, the way her back bowed, the way her leg muscles danced, the tiny flex in her ass when she rolled her hips…

She kept moving, keeping it simple, building it up slowly, and torturing the _fuck out of him_ …

“Felicity…” he breathed, hitting every syllable in her name. She spared him a glance over her shoulder, her hips still moving, her eyes glazed with pleasure and he groaned.

Felicity let out a heavy breath, her back arching again, and she grabbed onto the chair suddenly.

Oliver gritted his teeth.

“Ooh god…” she moaned, her hips starting to move faster. Oliver could see the wet spot she was making on the towel, and it made him harder. His hips started thrusting up as if he was actually behind her and not tied to this bed, yanking her off the arm and thrusting into her.

Her quiet little moans started filling the room, the chair groaning a little with each of her thrusts.

She spread her legs more, sinking further onto the arm, and Oliver moaned, his lids slipping half-shut, the sight alone enough to let a soft, easy curl of pleasure start to twist inside him. He moved his hips, up and down, biting the tip of his tongue, watching her.

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped. She moving faster, gripping the chair tighter. Oliver watched her ass flex, pushing herself harder and harder against the chair, rubbing harder… “Aahhh…”

“Felicity,” he moaned, and she gasped, surging against the chair at the sound of his voice. “Don’t stop.”

“Yes…” she whined, her voice growing louder, her back arching up for more leverage on the chair. “Oliver…”

“Harder… Felicity, rub harder…” She cried out, her hips moving faster, and the chair started to groan under the pressure, but she didn’t stop. Her fingers were white where she gripped, her legs starting to tremble… “Oh god, Felicity, don’t stop, that’s… gorgeous, so gorgeous, so hot…”

“Oooh god, oh god,” Felicity gasped, dropping closer to the chair and rubbing _harder_. “Ah, ah… ahh…!”

She came, and Oliver strained against his bonds, his cock painfully hard now, as he watched her come all over the chair and towel. She cried out, each cry ending in a whimper as she rode the orgasm out, her hips rotating against the chair in uneven jerks, before she collapsed.

Felicity moaned, not moving, and Oliver had to stare at her as she recovered. Her legs quivered with each breath, her ass jerking with each aftershock… god, she was _perfect_ , and he was going to _break this fucking bed_ if she didn’t move soon.

“Felicity,” he breathed, yanking on his arms again. “Felicity, please.”

Slowly, her arms shaking, Felicity pushed herself up, gingerly lifting herself off the arm. She keened; her body jolted beautifully when she stood again, her tender flesh rubbing against itself as she closed her legs. She was flushed, her body raw in spots from rubbing against the chair; her nipples were peaked, standing tall and hard, and she’d been _biting her lip_ …

“Felicity, please,” Oliver said, yanking on the bed again. “Come here, please, I have to get inside you, I need you. Please come here…”

“Oliver…” she whispered, moving towards him in halting steps, her face still awash in pleasure.

Felicity climbed up on the bed, moving delicately, still wearing those fucking shoes as she straddled him… but not where he needed her. Oliver surged up, rumbling his irritation when she settled on his stomach and pressed her soaking sex against him. She was so wet, and it was so hot; it only made him _need her more_. He thrust up, his cock barely grazing her ass, and she scooted further up his stomach in response.

Oliver growled.

“Oliver,” she said again, leaning over him, dangling her breasts before him. He tried to lean up and take one his mouth but she leaned back just in time, giggling. He glared at her and she smiled. “Patience…” she started, rotated her hips, making both of them hiss… her head fell back, her mouth open in a tiny pant as she finished, “Is a virtue, you know.”

He’d had _enough_.

Oliver yanked as hard as he could on the scarves tying him to the bed. One of them snapped at the knot, and the other broke the piece of bed she’d tied him to.

Felicity’s eyes snapped open at the rough movement and sound of shattering wood, but he didn’t give her goddamn second to respond. Oliver rolled them in the blink of an eye, and they landed near the edge the mattress, her head hanging off, her legs already spread…

Oliver spread them _wider_ and thrust in to the hilt.

A sharp cry fell from her at the sudden intrusion, and Oliver blanketed his body over hers, one hand curling over her head where he made a tight fist in her hair to keep her still as he immediately pulled out and thrust back in with just as much force. She cried out again, the sound vibrating through her throat, and Oliver gripped the edge of the bed and tightened his hold in her hair, starting a punishing pace pounding into her.

She was so wet, so gloriously wet, and smooth and silky and… _tight_. Oliver groaned, thrusting harder and harder, mindless, unable to do anything but _take_ as he fucked her.

He barely heard her whimpering screams as she came again, barely felt those silken walls squeezing him… he only felt the hot burn coiling in his spine, burning so hot it felt like acid racing through his veins, all headed straight for his…

Oliver came with a guttural shout, slamming his hips into hers, white sheeting over his eyes as the pleasure burned him from the inside out… it felt like it lasted forever, and he became aware of _everything_ in that split second - her whimpers, her wet heat sucking him in, her harsh breaths, her scorching skin…

The next thing he was aware of was that they were almost falling off the bed.

Felicity mewled underneath him, her hands hanging down over her head, her eyes closed in bliss.

Oliver groaned, pushing himself up, and they both winced when the movement shifted his cock inside her. With a grunt, Oliver pulled out of her - “Ooh,” she whispered - and he barely had enough strength to lift both of them up and off the edge of the bed.

He was pleasantly _numb_. Oliver hummed, opening his arms to her as Felicity snuggled up against him.

“You broke the bed,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

He tried to open his eyes to see the damage, but he just didn’t care. Instead he nuzzled his face against hers, both of them giving into the exhaustion flowing through them.

“You tie really good knots,” he mumbled. He felt her smile and then he said, “So I think it’s fair to say you broke the bed.”

Felicity pinched him.

“Hey! Ow…”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/122142251564/no-touching-olicity-explicit)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	35. Leather Skirts & Gold Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He blinked, taking in the very short and tight leather wrapped around her ample behind, which was also currently starting to inch up the longer she stayed bent over… in those goddamn ridiculous shoes that made her legs look _amazing_."

When Felicity first mentioned going to the re-opening of Verdant, Oliver had been all for it. The newly formed Queen Inc. had regained all its previous properties over the last several months, skating on the good start Palmer had given the company a few years ago, and Thea was _thrilled_.

A night out with Felicity to support Thea sounded wonderful.

Until he saw what she was wearing.

Oliver paused in the doorway of the bedroom at the sight of Felicity bent over, fussing with the buckle on one of her gold platform shoes… He blinked, taking in the very short and tight leather wrapped around her ample behind, which was also currently starting to inch up the longer she stayed bent over… in those goddamn ridiculous shoes that made her legs look _amazing_.

Oliver slowly licked his lips, his pants tightening, and he gripped the doorjamb, his fingers squeaking on the wood making Felicity glance back.

“Almost done,” she said, her words strangled and then the buckle slipped into place and she stood up with flourish and a bright, “There we go! These shoes…” But Oliver stopped listening when he noticed the matching leather top… and the zippers on both sides of the skirt that were already slipping open a tiny bit. “… which are surprisingly comfortable, but not that easy to…”

She grabbed her purse and turned to him, her hair down in natural waves, her makeup light… with bright red lips.

Felicity froze when she saw his face, and he could only imagine what he saw there. She took a step back, holding up a hand. “Oliver, no. Don’t even think about it.”

“Think about what?” he asked softly, stepping into the room. She took another step back and ran into the nightstand.

Her look hardened into a glare as he made his way towards her. “Oliver. I know that look. That is your ‘Felicity is wearing too many clothes’ look, and while I normally love it, you need to get rid of it. Because I didn’t spend two hours getting ready for nothing.”

He reached her and she shoved her hand against his chest. He stopped.

“No.”

“Yes,” Oliver replied and she poked his chest - hard - before he could do anything else. “Ow.”

“There’s more where that came from, buddy,” she continued, patting the spot she’d just attacked. Oliver was overly aware of how warm her hand was, and how nice it felt. She moved around him. “Now let’s go.”

But she didn’t go _around_ him. She brushed past him, with the entire length of her body. Oliver’s mouth went dry, a streak of desire slicing through him, and his hand was moving before he could stop it.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, snatching her back as he cupped her face, turning it up to his.

“Oliver,” she gasped but he cut her off, his lips slanting over hers, swallowing the breathy gasp she’d given him.

Felicity moaned, dropping her purse, her hands immediately grasping at his shoulders. Her shoes were so tall, and she met his height so much more easily, enough that Oliver barely had to lean down to touch her silky thighs.

He backed her up against the wall, his hands already on the cool skin there, his fingers pushing up the leather skirt, eager to see what she wore underneath.

They barely grazed one perfect round cheek before she yanked back abruptly, narrowly missing hitting her head on the wall.

“Oliver, no hands,” she snapped between breaths. He managed a broken, “What?” as he pulled back, furrowing his brow. Her lipstick was smudged, and she already had light traces of beard burn around her swollen limps. Oliver couldn’t look away, and when she licked them, he groaned, his hands already moving again but she said it again, slower, _“No hands.”_

Oliver stared at her for a beat before his mind kicked into gear, jumping ahead four steps.

“No hands?” he whispered… and he pushed his face against her, brushing his lips over hers. She took a shaky breath and nodded minutely. He nibbled on her lips, his tongue darting out to taste her. She opened her mouth to him, but he pulled back just enough, enough for her eyes to flutter shut and follow his every move, her lips seeking his out.

He growled her name before he kissed her… and removed his hands.

“It’s a new rule… tonight,” she said between kisses. “All night, until we get back, it’s the only way we’re gonna get out of here…”

“Okay, no hands,” Oliver replied, nodding… and then he took her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it softly, making her whimper, before he slowly dragged his face down her chin… down her throat… down her chest, before he slid down to his knees before her.

Oliver kept his face pressed to her, over her bare midriff and straight to one of the zippers.

Felicity’s eyes snapped open when she realized where he was going, her hands flying to his head, her fingers pushing through his hair to stop him, but he already had his teeth around one zipper and he tugged it down.

“Oliver, stop,” she whispered, sounding entirely unconvincing, and his answer was to press his face against her bare hip - she wasn’t wearing a damn thing underneath - and push the skirt down. He nipped at her skin and her nails dug into his scalp as she arched into him, gasping his name in a very different tone.

Oliver dropped further, pressing his face against her thigh and up her skirt. The material was lush, moving easily under his ministrations, and he kept his promise… he didn’t use his hands, but he didn’t have to because when he pressed her skirt out of the way, pressing his face against her hot center, Felicity lifted her leg for him and draped it over his shoulder, spreading herself for whatever he wanted to do to her.

“Oliver…”

He pressed his face into her wet folds, his tongue dragging over the sensitive lips and up to her clit.

She choked out his name, her head falling back against the wall as she shoved herself down against him. He sucked and licked, eating her out, building her up… just enough for her to leave her whimpering mindlessly, her hands fisted in his hair, keeping him steady. Her hips rotated in time with his mouth, her thigh muscles clenching, her skin growing hotter and hotter as she grew wetter, soaking his chin…

She was on the brink, desperate moans filling the room, when Oliver suddenly pulled back.

He didn’t give her a second’s reprieve as he shot up, lifting her away from the wall and tossed her on the bed.

Felicity bounced on the mattress, a shocked laugh falling from her lips.

Oliver wiped his face and undid his pants as quickly as he could, already climbing onto the bed before it’d stopped moving. Felicity licked her lips again, making him groan. She yanked her skirt up for him, spreading her long legs. Oliver fell against her, his cock sliding through her wet juices as their lips clashed together.

He pulled his hips back, found her entrance, and thrust home, filling her completely, her moan echoing his. Felicity wrapped her legs around him, hiking her legs up as much as she could, her heels digging into his back as she held onto him tightly. When he pulled out and thrust back in, their hips smacking against each other, she held on tighter.

It was hot and hurried. They clung to each other as he thrust into with punishing force, her hips rising to meet his with just as much power, finishing the orgasm he’d been building her up to a moment ago.

Her sharp shouts bounced off the walls, and the white hot pleasure coiled tighter and tighter at the base of his spine… before he joined her, emptying himself into her with a loud cry.

“Oliver… if you stained this skirt, I’m going to kill you.”

The End


	36. In The Classroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Professor Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak, his TA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No underage in this ficlet, but there is a strong teacher/student power play.

“Ms. Smoak.”

Felicity paused where she’d been organizing the midterms from earlier in the day, her hands freezing in midair, one still wrapped around a red pen, the other shuffled between some of the tests. She didn’t turn, she didn’t respond; she just stopped.

“Felicity,” he said, dragging her name out the way he always did. A shiver danced down her spine, her eyes slipping shut and she licked her lips, sucking her top one into her mouth. She slowly stood up, knowing without having to look that he was at his desk, in his chair… watching her. “Come here.”

His husky voice was like a caress as she set her pen down and turned, her eyes finding him immediately.

Their eyes met, and her stomach dropped. His face was impassive, but his eyes… they were alive with heat, deep cerulean pools searing right into her. Her mouth went dry, her lungs stopped working; her skin tingled with awareness, with the memory of his touch.

_Calloused palms dragging down her spine;_

_Hands in her hair, her lips around his thick erection_

_Stubble he never shaved burning the inside of her thighs, his face buried between her legs;_

_Ropey scars all over his body;_

_Bruises he left when she rode him, when he gripped her tightly, guiding her movements;_

_Thick hair between her fingers, fisting it as he pounded into her._

It all skated over her nerves, a memory and a reminder, his eyes knowing exactly what she was remembering and promising so much more.

“Come here,” he repeated softly, and she was moving towards him without further provocation. He watched her approach, and she watched him watch, watched him notice the slow roll of her hips, the way she licked her lips, the flush creeping over her exposed skin.

She’d worn this dress knowing he liked it - _“Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch you walk around, watch you bending over, the skirt riding up… their eyes on you… did you wear it on purpose, Felicity? For me?”_ \- it had thin straps and was very tight across the bodice, dropping down into a full-bodied skirt that barely grazed her mid-thigh. His eyes followed the flowy lines, slid down her shapely thighs, down to the heels she only wore to see the way his eyes grew darker, the way his lids grew heavy.

She stopped in front of him and he slowly turned his chair to face her.

“Are you wearing panties?” he asked.

Felicity nodded.

He licked his lips, sending a wave of heat scorching through her, knowing exactly what that tongue felt like on every inch of her body, but he didn’t move; she never knew what to expect from him, what he was going to do. He had to know it left her frazzled, left her senses heightened, left her skin literally aching to be touched, her sex throbbing, her chest feeling so full it might implode with need.

Her nipples tingled as they hardened, and his eyes dropped to her chest.

Her professor reached for her and she moved into his hands gladly. Heat exploded where he touched, a sharp shiver dancing down her spine. Felicity’s hands landed on his shoulders, moving to his neck, and she scraped her nails under his ears, making his eyes flutter shut. He leaned into her touch, pulling her to stand between his legs.

His hands slowly moved down her waist, following her lush lines down her hips and her thighs. Felicity sighed soflty and pressed her face against the crown of his head, taking a deep breath. She leaned against him as he pressed his face to her middle, his hands reaching bare skin.

They both sighed when he finally touched her, grazing his fingers over her soft skin, moving up underneath the skirt. Her heart skipped a few beats, anticipation and trepidation making his touch all the more precarious as he moved. Her chest tightened with desire, her stomach clenching with need, excitement licking at her insides… Felicity turned her face, resting her cheek on his head and closed her eyes, giving herself over to him, to the sensations only he could give her.

His hands moved up her thighs, his fingertips barely touching her, leaving a trail of fire. Every inch he covered hiked up her desire for _more_ , so much more - she needed him to grab her, to throw her on his desk like he had last week, or to make her straddle him, or to push her to her knees… but he didn’t do anything but move slowly, deliberately. She whined his name, whispering a strangled, “Please,” but he didn’t give her anything… he only touched her until she was panting, her hips moving slightly, seeking friction. He took his time, reaching her panties; he hooked his fingers in them and tugged them down.

The material got caught at the juncture of her legs and she spread them, the wetness soaking through her panties leaving a sticky trail down her thighs. But he didn’t pull them all the way down.

Felicity looked down at him, her brow furrowing, realizing at the last second that she’d shoved her hands into his hair as he pulled away, pushing her from between his legs.

“C’mere,” he said gruffly, spinning her.

Felicity sat down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and he lifted her up, readjusting her, letting her feel the hard outline of his cock pressing against the seam of his pants. She bit her lip and he smirked at her… she licked her lips and wiggled, just enough for him to groan. A wicked shot of triumph soared through her as his hips arched up to meet her, rubbing, and she felt him swelling, growing harder…

“Felicity,” he choked and then he wrapped his arm around her hips, nailing her in place.

He looked up at her, his eyes hooded, his mouth gaped in a soft needy pant… for her. He needed her; she made him needy, made him fly apart at the seams, made him look at her like he wanted to eat her alive.

Felicity whimpered at the thought.

His other hand slid over her thighs, and her breath hitched, her panties tight enough that she couldn’t spread her legs, couldn’t encourage him; she could only wait.

He smiled at her, just a hint of a smile, and then he pushed his hand up between her thighs.

She gasped brokenly, spreading her legs slightly, giving him as much room as she could.

Their eyes stayed locked on each other as his fingers found her slick heat.

He slid his fingers over her, barely grazing her clit, her nether lips, barely grazing _anything_ ; she moaned, and his smile disappeared, replaced with a startling intensity… he teased her, dragging the tip of his middle finger along her wet seam, through her wiry curls, just barely touching her.

Felicity tried to move, to spread her legs more, to thrust up against his hand but the arm wrapped around her hips kept her still as he continued his slow torture, watching her every reaction. A surge of wetness coated his fingers, soaking through her skirt, and a heady flush rushed over her. His eyes dropped to her lips, and it took her too long to realize that her nails ached painfully because she was gripping his shoulders so hard.

He pressed his finger between her puffy, wet lips and swirled it around her entrance. She gasped, arching her back, unable to tear her eyes from his… and then he thrust it into her.

Felicity gave him a tiny cry, her head falling back, her inner walls clamping down on him. He pulled it out and added a second finger, thrusting into her again and she tightened her hold on him, letting him hold her, knowing he wouldn’t let her fall as she concentrated on his fingers filling her throbbing channel.

“Yes,” she hissed, the word ending in a choked whine that grew louder with each moan.

He barely moved, thrusting into her shallowly, keeping his fingers pressed deep inside her.

She felt his eyes on her, felt him watching her…

He pulled his fingers out of her and she arched her hips, wanting him back but he slid them up, soaked with her juices, to her clit. It was already hard and ready, and he rubbed it, making her gasp desperately, her fingers digging into him.

“Please…”

His movements were slow, unhurried, and it was tortuous as he built her up with a tender slowness that made her feel like he was replacing all her blood with acid. The heat inside her spiraled further and further out, tightening at the same time, her pleasure mounting. She spread her legs, needing _more_ , rotating her hips for more friction against his fingers.

“Felicity,” he breathed, his voice taut with need and her eyes flew open, flew to his. His pupils were blown, his cock hard underneath her, and it only made her wetter. He groaned, shoving his fingers back down to her opening…

Without warning, he thrust three into her.

“Oh god!” Felicity cried, her hips thrusting back.

“Fuck… Felicity,” he groaned, and she blindly grabbed his face, her lips crashing against his, his teeth cutting against her lip as she kissed him viciously.

He returned the kiss with just as much ferocity, his moan vibrating through her, his other hand sliding up her back to the back of her head, keeping her pressed against him as his fingers thrust into her.

His thumb slipped through her wetness, finding her clit, rubbing it with each tiny thrust, and it was the push she needed as his fingers filled her, stretching her, over and over and over…

“Oh god,” Felicity whispered against his lips, pressing her forehead to his as she rode his fingers, his chair squeaking with their combined weight. She panted, the pleasure starting to spiral out of control inside her, heat traveling across the surface of her skin in heady waves that left her unable to concentrate on anything else.

“Oliver,” she gasped, repeating it over and over, his name a litany on her lips; they breathed each other’s air, his fingers thrusting, his thumb on her clit, her hips grinding down, his hand on the back of her neck, keeping her anchored to him. “Oh god, oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t… Oliver, Oliver…!”

Felicity suddenly stiffened, the pleasure inside her peaking; she froze, every single cell in her body focused on the pleasure he was giving her, on his hand thrusting between her legs, on… _everything_ … before she exploded.

“Aaahhh, oh god!” Felicity shouted as her release shot through her, her voice carrying through the empty classroom, her nails digging into his face. She cried out, his hand not stopping, his finger still on her clit, riding the orgasm out with her… he kept thrusting, her inner walls clamping down on him, wanting more, needing more… until it was too much and she grabbed his hand, stilling him. “Oliver, Oliver, Oliver… Oliver… oh god…”

“Shhh,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her limp ones, his hand still tight on her neck, cradling her as she came down. “Shhh…”

“Oliver,” she whimpered, an aftershock making her jerk in his arms, a pitiful cry slipping out and he pulled his fingers from her, gripping her thigh with his wet fingers.

They didn’t let go of each other.

Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal, her breathing evening out…

She slowly became aware of the hardness she still sat on and his taut breaths, his hard grip.

Felicity pulled back, taking him in for a moment - god, he was gorgeous, flushed with unmet need, his jaw clenched, his lips swollen… She kissed him, and he groaned, his fingers on her thigh flexing. It quickly grew more passionate as she nipped at him, her hips rotating against him. She pressed her chest against his, the stiff material of her dress rubbing against her hard nipples, their sharp protest when she pressed them against his hard body

She stood up - she was still shaky, still vibrating from the orgasm he’d given her \- and moved to pull her panties back up, but he stopped her with a rough, “Leave them.” Her eyes flew to his before she did just that and slid to her knees, her fingers already working on his button and zipper. She rubbed him through the material and he leaned down, gripping her face, pulling her up to kiss her again as her hands worked between them. He held her tightly, the kiss wet and sloppy, his legs wrapping around her, rolling his chair closer to her as she finally…

A knock interrupted them.

“Professor Queen?”

They both froze, breaking away from each other instantly. For an eternal second, they just stared at each other, neither moving, waiting…

And then the knock came again.

Oliver cursed under his breath, helping her to her feet before he shoved his hard on back into his pants with an agitated hiss, nodding his head to his bathroom. “Go clean up. You still have papers to grade.”

“You really think my brain can handle anything past one plus one equals two right now?” Felicity whispered.

He smirked and she rolled her eyes at the sheen of pride shining back at her.

She yanked her panties up just as the student knocked again, and she moved to the bathroom, but his hand shot out, grabbing hers and pulling her back.

He gave her a searing kiss, one she felt straight to her toes, before he pulled back with a, “We’re not done here, Ms. Smoak,” and then he let her go.

But she wasn’t done either.

As Oliver rolled his chair back to his desk, readjusting the obviously uncomfortable bulge in his pants, she leaned over him and cupped him through his pants, making him gasp, his eyes falling shut.

“No, we’re not,” she whispered into his ear, and then she disappeared into the bathroom as he yelled, his voice cracking slightly, “Come in!”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/124501833974/in-the-classroom-olicity-au-one-shot-explicit)
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	37. Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, one-shot. Oliver and Felicity are neighbors. And Oliver happens to be a stripper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (gif from the lovely [amellsbett](http://amellsbett.tumblr.com/)!)
> 
> I hope this is close to what you had in mind, anon (and thank you)! Love me some neighbor AU’s. This is one of those ridiculous fics where you gotta suspend some disbelief - just how I like my tropey romance-novel-esque stories! Of course I used Ginuwine’s Pony for this. For reasons.

_“I could use someone to practice on… if you don’t mind.”_

It was an accident the first time Felicity discovered her neighbor was a stripper.

She didn’t sleep much at night - it wasn’t insomnia so much as there was just so much free time, free time to do everything she didn’t have time to do while at work. Not that she was allowed to do those things at work - employers usually frowned on their employees using their breaks to hack into the Pentagon’s mainframe - _“What exactly does a lay citizen need in the Pentagon, Ms. Smoak?”_ They didn’t need to know that she still harbored a little bit of her hacktivist tendencies, although she was a lot smarter about it these days.

Long story short, she didn’t sleep that much, and she was usually up in her living room, on her couch, with most of the lights off, ambient light shining from her laptop and television - it was very hacktivist noir, it helped set the hacktivist mood…

She also discovered that when her lights were off, she had a very direct view into her neighbor’s garage, which she wouldn’t have known if she kept her lights on like a normal, sane person.

Felicity might say it was meant to be, but that would be creepy because normal, sane people didn’t immediately assume that their weird nocturnal habits leading to a perfect view into her hot neighbor’s garage was fate.

And those normal, sane people would merely glance, appreciate that her neighbor was very active and healthy, and move on with her night.

She obviously lacked both qualities.

She’d seen him _practicing_ in his garage - he didn’t use it for his car, or storage, or for… wood-building, or whatever guys used garages for - he’d converted the floor into a small workout space, complete with a faux dancefloor, one that he’d been spinning and gyrating on like he was…

Like he was a _stripper_.

Her neighbor was the definition of ‘if you are a fireman, I will set myself on fire to get you to touch me.’ He was _built_ , with muscle in all the right places, and she only knew that because the first weekend after he’d moved in he’d spent the entire time pulling up the ridiculous weeds his predecessors had left him.

He’d been _shirtless_ , with sweatpants that kept sliding down his hips…

Never in her life did she think she’d be the kind of person that got excited about seeing a man’s ass crack like she was about seeing his.

He had an _amazing_ ass, and she’d accidentally spent an hour watching him work before she caught herself and forced herself away from the window… for about twenty minutes before coming back. He’d caught her on Sunday, ogling him from her kitchen, and she’d _dropped_ her water, the glass shattering all over the kitchen floor, quickly followed by her immediately dropping to the floor with a sharp yip of embarrassment.

Later that week when she’d “glanced” over, he’d been waiting… and he’d _waved_.

She’d dropped to her knees again with another yip, absolutely mortified before scrambling out of the kitchen, promising herself right then and there that she was going to eat takeout for the rest of her life because she was never going in there again. She’d waited for the knock at her door, waited for the flashing lights because surely having your new neighbor practically spying on you wasn’t a giant welcome sign to the neighborhood… but neither came.

She had her first dream about her new neighbor that night, involving a weed whacker and _her_ grass.

She’d taken _that_ as a sign that she needed to keep her stupid blinds shut.

Felicity had done a pretty good job of avoiding him after that, which was pretty easy since he mostly kept night hours anyway. It was a few weeks of being overly aware of everything to the right of her house when one night she decided to carry too many grocery bags inside at once; one of the bags split, sending oranges careening all the way down her driveway and into the street.

Instead of calmly stepping into her kitchen, setting the bags down and coming back out to collect her wayward fruit, she’d tried to shove all the bags she was holding on one arm and crabwalk all over the concrete, trying to save as many oranges as she could… leading to another bag splitting, nearly sending her two pints of mint chocolate chip splattering to the ground.

 _Almost_ being the operative word, because _he_ had appeared, a few oranges already in-hand and he’d caught the bag of ice cream.

His name was Oliver, and he was even more gorgeous close-up.

Which wasn’t good. It was _bad_ , because three days after that she had an incredibly erotic dream involving oranges and Oliver’s tongue that had had her waking up in a flushed sweat, her sheets bunched between her legs.

Despite her mind’s wicked inability to keep itself from fantasizing about him and her penchant for spying on him, they’d broken the ice that night. He’d been nice, and charming, and didn’t seem very freaked out by her and the fact that when he looked over towards her house, her beady eyes were always staring at him.

They became… neighborly.

He was home most mornings, usually up and about to wave to her as she left for work - sometimes he stopped to talk, other times he yelled a cheery, “Morning,” with a smile.

Once he came out, handing her the cartoon and business section of his newspaper before hopping in his truck.

Once he helped her change her tire… and fixed the tag on her jacket… and brought her coffee cake when he’d been stuck at work all night…

One time he brought his cup of coffee over and offered her a sip of it - _a sip of his caramel coffee_ \- explaining he had a friend in Russia who sent him new coffee samples from his company every quarter… she’d had a dream about him and caramel after that, after which she’d straddled her pillow, the throbbing in her body too much to deny.

Sometimes she did nice things for him too. She turned on his sprinklers when he wasn’t home from work yet, or she brought him leftovers from company meals.

They were _neighborly_.

And then one night she’d glanced over, noticing that Oliver’s garage lights were on and she’d seen _him_ , in all his glory, jumping up, moving around, _obviously_ working out. And because she was a glutton for punishment, she’d gotten up, walking closer to the window, keeping herself as close to the edge as possible.

She’d peeked in.

He was _dancing_.

And not just any dancing, but grinding, twisting, jumping up, using anything and everything around him to bounce off of. It should have been funny, her neighbor moving around like that, because to someone who didn’t have eyes, it might look ridiculous, just as ridiculous as that thought was… but she had eyes, and she’d stayed at the window, watching him, watching the sweat gather on his skin, glowing in the harsh fluorescent lights as he worked himself every which way.

He was strong, very strong, and agile, and _flexible._

She had another dream that night, one that involved his hips and her mouth.

She’d woken with her hand between her thighs.

It became her habit to bunker down, to get to work each night… and to check in on her neighbor. He was gone most nights, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays, and on those nights, he was in his garage, _working out_.

She didn’t get any work done on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Something was wrong with her, she knew that, everyone in the neighborhood probably knew that, but she couldn’t stop.

And she looked forward to him every single morning, just like she looked forward to Tuesday and Thursday nights.

Several weeks of this went by with them talking before she left for work - she would even call it flirting, but when nothing came of it, and when she realized she was far too chicken to ever ask him out, she realized she was probably projecting her crush on him - and with her migrating to her window on nights that started with T.

Everything was going great… until he asked her if she could help him _practice_.

The word echoed in her head as she stared at him. “You want to… practice, on me? I mean, not _on_ me, I don’t know what it is you…  practice… practice what?”

A slow grin covered Oliver’s face before he licked his lips - and damn the man, he had no _right_ to look that good just licking his stupid lips - before he said, “I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I’m practicing, Felicity.”

“What? No, no I don’t, I don’t know… is it… basketball? Or… or yoga? Yoga, I can do yoga, I’m pretty stretchy. In the muscle sort of way, I don’t think I’m stretchy in any other way, not that there is another way. I mean, I don’t know-”

“Felicity,” Oliver said and he touched her shoulder gently, the heat from his hand seeping right through her top. She stopped, her eyes closing for a second - _because Oliver was freaking touching her_ \- and looked up at him again. “I see you.”

“What?” Ice filled her stomach at that, and she widened her eyes as much as possible, aiming for innocence. “You… see me? Like… right now? Because I see you too, that’s the benefit of having eyes. Not that I’m seeing you, seeing you, I’m just-”

“In your window,” he supplied, and the words slammed into her like a freight train of dread. Felicity groaned, her head dropping until her chin landed on her chest, and instead of running in the opposite direction, Oliver laughed - he _laughed_ \- his hand never leaving her shoulder as he ducked his head to catch her eye. “I’ve known for a while.”

“Oh my god, tell me you’re joking,” she said.

“If you can see into mine, I can definitely see into yours.”

“Oh no. Oh my god.” Felicity covered her face, groaning again. “I’m never leaving my house again.”

“Felicity, I don’t mind,” Oliver said, the laughter in his voice making _more_ mortification cascade through her. He didn’t _mind_. Of course he didn’t mind, he was ogled every night. Oh god, she was a horrible person. She shook her head again, moaning into her hands, making him laugh. “Really-”

“But I mind,” she blurted, swinging her hands out, gesturing to her house. “You have a totally creepy neighbor, Oliver, I’m a _creeper_. Oh my god, I’m a creeper. I _creep_. I creep on people, I stand at my window and _creep_ and _stare_ , and how do you not hate me? How have you not called the cops on me? I would totally call the cops on me.”

“Would I be asking you if you wanted to lend me a hand if I found you creepy?” he asked, a smile curling his lips, and she looked up at him helplessly. He squeezed her shoulder, squeezing her heart right along with it, as he said, “I have good instincts when it comes to people, Felicity, and I’m pretty sure you won’t be murdering me anytime soon.”

“Wow, this is a great conversation to be having,” Felicity said, and he laughed again.

“I could use the help, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Feel free to say no.”

“You’re asking _me_ if _I’m_ uncomfortable,” Felicity said, shaking her head, overly aware of the fact that he hadn’t stopped touching her shoulder. It was soft, gentle… and hot, and she felt it seeping into her, deeper and deeper. “The creeper. You’re too nice. You’re being too neighborly, someone should come talk to you about neighbor etiquette.”

“Neighbor etiquette, huh?” he asked, his hand sliding down her arm to her elbow. Her heart skipped a few beats as she suddenly realized how close he was standing to her.

“Alright, maybe they should come talk to me.”

Oliver chuckled, and she looked at him - god, he was beautiful. And he was asking her… to practice. Was this real life?

“So…” She licked her lips. “Practice. What exactly does helping you practice involve?”

“A new move I’ve been working on,” he said, nonchalantly - dear god, he was talking about using her as a human prop in his stripping _nonchalantly_ and there was no way she was going to survive this… especially since he hadn’t done anything past being neighborly. She was a female, and a friend, and he needed help with his work, simple as that. The thought was a little souring, but then again, what did she expect? They were _neighbors_ , that was all, and if his idea of being neighborly was her helping him practice his stripping moves then… damn it, she was gonna be _neighborly_. “I have a second job that’s been keeping me from practicing at the club, but I need to get it down, and I figured since you already know about what I _do…_ ”

“Right, I do… because I do. Yes,” Felicity said, taking a deep breath, nodding. “Yes, I can help.”

“Great.” He smiled - even his _teeth_ were gorgeous, what was he made of? - and nodded. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

“Sure, of course, what are neighbors for, right?”

Felicity clamped her mouth down before she said anything else, like, ‘I’m also very good at licking chocolate sauce off your chest, or so my dreams tell me, so if you ever need that, I’m your gal.’

She cleared her throat. “What time should I come over?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Oliver said, turning to point. “Just come in the side door, it’ll be unlocked.”

“Okay,” Felicity said with a smile. “I’ll be there.”

“It’s a date,” Oliver said with that grin and a squeeze of her elbow, and then he was turning back to his house.

The double whammy of his words and his lips doing the simple act of smiling sent a rush of ‘ohmygodwhatishappening’ crashing through her core.

 _A date_.

No, it wasn’t a date. A date involved things like… movies, and breadsticks. Not sweat and dancing. Oh god, sometimes they did, but not this. This was a date, a practice date - it was a workout date.

“A workout date, I can do that. I can be… my stripper neighbor’s workout date. Oh god.” Felicity closed her eyes, dropping her face into her hands again. “I need help. No, I need alcohol.”

*

Oliver pulled his shirt off, tossing it into the corner of his garage. He rotated his neck, swinging his shoulders, stretching his arms.

She was coming over.

The nest of butterflies in his stomach tripled, vibrating inside him until he felt it in his arms and legs, anticipation and trepidation making his muscles feel like they were disconnecting.

How exactly does someone tell their neighbor that she was part of the reason he’d purchased the house next to hers? She talked about being creepy, he was pretty sure he was the one taking it to the next level. The house was old, crappy and it needed far more work than he had the time to put into it… and despite that, he’d grown to love it. Mostly because of his neighbor, but also because it had a certain charm to it.

And the garage was _huge_.

Oliver toed off his sneakers, yanking his socks off before he unbuttoned his pants.

His fingers were shaking a little.

Was he really going to do this? _This_ was how he got his neighbor to come over? Why not ask her over for a cup of coffee, or… damn it, anything else but _this_.

Because he was good at this… and he’d definitely noticed her noticing. His workout regimen was usually jogging a few laps around the lake two streets down and then lifting some weights. The one time he’d started dancing around the garage - that fucking song came on the radio, and before he’d know what he was doing, he was moving - had been the time _she’d_ noticed.

She wasn’t very good at being inconspicuous. He’d seen her curtains moving the second she’d touched them, her delicate outline against the shadows of her living room, the shine of her wet lips where she’d licked them as she’d watched. A fluke, that was it, it was just a fluke… but he’d done it again on his next night off, just to see what she did.

She’d come to the window again, always wearing something less than appropriate. She usually only had on a pair of panties - boyshorts, normally - and a tank top without a bra. Her hair would be up in a messy, crooked bun, strands of hair falling down around her face and neck, highlighting the long column that led down to…

Oliver licked his lips.

He’d kept doing it, and she’d kept watching.

He thought she would say something, or mention it, or maybe ask him out, anything, but she never did. They were on good terms, they had their own thing, a thing he’d readily dived into the second he saw her oranges scattered all over the road, but that was it. They were just neighbors… right? She interacted with everyone - even with Mr. Fald on her left, a cantankerous old man who always had a smile for the ray of sunshine that lived between them, a smile she readily returned. She was just as energetic and bubbly and gorgeous with him as she was with Oliver… so she might like watching him, but it was just that: she liked watching.

Besides, people didn’t date their neighbors, right? Wasn’t that a recipe for disaster?

It hadn’t stopped his mind from dancing down that road… from imagining what she’d do if he stopped and looked right at her, if he waved her over or if he went over there… what noises she would make when he nibbled his way down her stomach, slipping his tongue under the band of those panties, tasting her skin before tugging them down, burying his mouth between her legs.

It was that image that had him wrapping his hand around his dick every night, his body alive with the need and frustration of her watching him move.

His mind filtered through every scenario it could, every single night, imagining what she tasted like, what her lips felt like, how her hands would wrap around him, or her wet heat clenching down on him as she came, her hard nipples pressed into his chest, her head thrown back, his name on her lips…

Sometimes he woke up in his own mess, sometimes he did it in the shower… sometimes he could barely wait to get into his bedroom before his fist was wrapped around himself, his mind already constructing a vivid fantasy starring one Felicity Smoak.

He’d been dancing for a few years now; he never felt like this at the club, ever… it was only with her, she was different. He wanted to dance for her, he wanted to see her reaction - her pupils dilate, her plump lips fall open in a breathy pant, hear her moan…

So was that why he’d invited her over, for “practice?” This was _ridiculous_.

He did need the practice; he already had the move down though - there was no reason to be using his gorgeous as hell neighbor with a body that made his hands tingle with the desire to touch her.

And yet…

Practice made perfect.

And it got her over there.

Oliver ran through a few stretches, rotating his body until he felt his muscles warming up. It helped chase away the nerves, chase away the butterflies making his stomach feel like he was sitting in a merry-go-round. Oliver lost himself in the movements, going through his warmups mindlessly… until he heard the side door to the garage opening.

Felicity poked her head in, tentatively, her eyes roving around the space. She bit her lip - Oliver’s body tightened at the sight; she had beautiful lips - before her eyes found him.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Hi,” he replied, those damn butterflies coming back full force. He swallowed - for fuck’s sake, why was he so _nervous_? - and waved her in. Why did he always feel the need to wave like a jackass at her? “You can come in.”

“Right.” Felicity stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She’d changed out of her work clothes - did she even know what the sight of her legs in those heels she wore did to him? - and into stretchy yoga pants and a shirt with a wide neck, so wide it slid off one shoulder, revealing her bra strap. Her hair was up in a messy bun, just how he liked it, and… she was barefoot.

They were both barefoot.

It was oddly intimate, and it made his heart skip a beat.

She clasped her hands together, wringing them slightly.

Oliver furrowed his brow. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Her wide eyes flew to him. “Yes! Yes, this is more than okay, I want… I very much so want to… help. You. With this.” She took a step closer, and he noticed she was blushing. “Where do you, uh, want me?”

_Where do you want me?_

The words lit a streak of fire straight to his core.

“Uh…” Oliver paused, his mouth going dry as they stared at each other, before he blinked. And pointed over his shoulder. “Grab a chair.”

“A chair. Okay. I can… where are… oh,” Felicity said, waving when she spotted them. “There they are. I’ll just… get one.”

“Okay,” he said, watching her walk towards the pile of chairs he kept for this exactly this purpose. Although this was the first time anyone else had sat in them. The shirt she wore was short, hanging right above her ass, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her as she moved, her body tight and firm, her round backside extending down to her taut legs…

_Shit._

He should’ve told her to wear a potato sack or something.

Or he should’ve just told his brain this was the stupidest damn thing he’d ever thought of - what the hell did he expect to come from this?

Still, she was there, he might as well… _commit_.

Oliver swallowed again, his mouth dry _again_ , and forced himself to turn away from her, heading to his sound system. He heard her pick up a chair and carry it over to the center of the little dancefloor he’d put together, with plastic faux-hardwood.

“Have you ever been to a strip club?” Oliver asked, his voice cracking slightly, but only _slightly_ \- he hoped she hadn’t heard it.

“Um, no,” Felicity replied, and he heard her sit down as he picked up his go-to CD. He glanced back at her, and caught her staring at him… more specifically, his ass. A stupid swell of pride filled him, and he smiled, feeling oddly comforted he wasn’t the only one. Her eyes flew to his, that soft blush deepening - he wondered how low it went, how she’d feel if he charted its course with his lips…

Felicity opened her mouth to say something before snapping it shut. Instead she gave him a tiny smile, a nervous smile, and he started to wonder if she was nervous for a very different reason than her weird-ass neighbor asking if he could practice his moves on her…

His heart stopped as his blood simultaneously heated at the idea, making his chest feel extra hot… and then it was racing.

Oliver finally turned back to his stereo, putting the CD in. He clicked to the track and put it on repeat. He didn’t miss her soft sigh, or the sound of her shifting in the chair. The thought that she might be as attracted to him as he was to her, that she might be _nervous_ because she actually liked him - liked him, liked him - gave him a surge of confidence…

… and as Pony started playing, that confidence coursed through him. Oliver let it take over, let his body take over, let it go through the movements his muscles knew by memory.

His hips moved, his body rotating, and he let the music guide him as the words started…

_I’m just a bachelor_  
_I’m looking for a partner_  
_Someone who knows how to ride  
_ _Without even falling off_

“Oh boy,” she whispered, under her breath, but he caught it, and it made him grin 

_Gotta be compatible_  
_Takes me to my limits_  
_Girl when I break you off  
__I promise that you won’t want to get off_

Oliver danced around her, just within reach. She sat back, her eyes wide and glued to him as he moved. Her hands slid down to the grasp at the chair, her fingers turning white with the effort…

His entire focus was on _her_ , and he finally let himself touch her.

His hand ghosted across the back of her shoulders, making her breath hitch, her eyes fluttering shut, but they didn’t stay closed for long, like she couldn’t bear to _not_ look at him. The thought made him smile, his eyes never leaving hers as he danced. He kept it basic, gyrating, spinning, slowly working his way up to more…

Her reactions were visceral though, _intoxicating_ … he wanted _more_ from her, he wanted to see more.

Oliver dropped to his knees in time with the music, his hips still rocking, and he used his jeans to slide around her chair, letting it anchor him as well as spinning her until they were face-to-face. Felicity gasped in surprise, her mouth open in a pant, her skin flushed… he was just inside her bubble, his eyes on her…

_Sitting here flossing_  
_Peepin’ your steelo_  
_Just once if I have the change  
_ _The things I would do to you_

Her lower lip trembled 

She was enjoying this, a lot.

His confidence surged.

_You and your body_  
_Every single portion_  
_Send chills up and down your spine  
_ _Juice flowing down your thigh_

Oliver reached around her and grabbed the chair, yanking it towards him as he thrust in time with the music, and she whimpered out a choked, “Oh god,” as her legs automatically spread for him. The chair legs slammed into the ground as he did it again, making her rock, her hips slipping on the seat, her hands never letting go.

Ginuwine filled the empty air of the garage, hitting the chorus again, and Oliver leaned into her, keeping himself from just touching her, his body curved around her as his lips barely slid over her exposed shoulder, his nose nudging her bra strap, her skin erupting in goosebumps. She was flushed, so warm underneath him, and he _ached_ to touch her, ached for _more_.

As he made his way up her shoulder and neck, just _hovering_ over her, Felicity turned her face towards him, inhaling deeply; his chest constricted at her stuttered breath. She nuzzled the side of his head, his hair tickling her cheek… before she realized what she was doing. She snapped herself back, and he grinned.

Oliver let go of the back of the chair, his hands sliding over her shoulders and down her chest. He made a wide berth around her breasts - god, he wished he could touch her - and down her sides. She was trembling as he slid them over her hips and thighs before he covered her hands where she gripped the seat - she was gripping it for dear life - and shoved the chair back a foot.

Her lids were hooded, her lips wet where she’d licked them, her eyes never leaving him as he dropped to the floor before her, holding himself up on his arms and balls of his feet. Oliver moved his hips in time with the music, feeling his muscles ripple as he thrust into the ground, his eyes on her. He heard her whimper, saw her swallow, her arms clenching… and then she licked her lips again.

Oliver inhaled quickly, and spun on his hands so he was sideways, his hips still thrusting into the ground, giving her a side view.

She moaned.

Without missing a beat, Oliver suddenly slid across the floor, grabbing her chair, making her gasp again. Using the momentum, Oliver swung himself around her, sliding over the floor, until he was on his knees before her again. Before she could do anything, he had his hands on her legs and he spread them. Felicity arched her back, her hips moving towards him of their own volition. He slid his hands up her thighs to her hips as he moved into her bubble again, pressing his face against her chest, barely grazing her, going up her other shoulder this time.

She arched into him.

Oliver had every intention of picking her up and sitting down with her in his lap - _the move_ \- but she had other ideas.

Felicity whimpered and suddenly spread her legs wider, wrapping them around him, shoving her hands into his hair. Oliver instinctively pushed his hands around to her ass in reaction and she dipped her head down to his. Oliver turned his up to hers, his body reacting to her movements… and she kissed him.

The second their lips touched, she gasped. Oliver moaned, swallowing the sound, immediately yanking her closer. She fisted his hair in tight fists, opening her mouth to his and he took it, his tongue seeking hers.

Felicity wrapped herself around him as Oliver’s fingers dug into her ass, pulling her across the seat until he felt her heat pressed against the already hard bulge in his jeans. She whined, her legs wrapping around him tighter, her hips moving to create friction that had them both groaning.

Oliver thrust against her heat, and she kissed him harder, her lips nipping at him as he tasted her moans and gasps.

He didn’t hear the music, or feel the hard floor under his knees, or _anything_ but _her_.

The need for air was becoming a problem and he wrenched his lips from hers, pushing his face into her neck, his lips and tongue licking and sucking as much as he could. She shivered at the combination of his wet kisses and heavy breathing as he worked his way down, his teeth grazing her… when he reached a certain spot, she let out a low cry and arched her chest into him, her hard nipples scraping at his bare chest.

“Oh god, Felicity,” he breathed, and she whimpered mindlessly, writhing against him, his hips rotating against her. She was so hot, so warm, so _perfect_. 

Oliver didn’t have to think about what he was doing or where he was going. He moved down her body, her hands still in his hair, her ass at the edge of the seat, staying put because he had her pinned to it. He felt a hard nipple slip over his cheek. She thrust her hips up against him, her heat pressed to his stomach as he wrapped his lips around the hard nub through her shirt and bra.

Felicity moaned, her hips moving more urgently, rubbing against his abs as he sucked on her.

“Oliver,” she whimpered, her nails digging into his scalp and joy-laced need shot through him at that sound.

Oliver moaned.

He’d imagined it so many times, thought about the way her lips would look when she said his name, and it was so much more than he could have ever dreamed.

It was beautiful and breathless and it spurred him on.

Oliver released her nipple and moved further down, not bothering with her clothes yet - he didn’t have the damn patience.

He listened to her breathy cries, her hands following him down as he gripped her hips, sliding her back on the chair.

Oliver spread her legs, pressing his palms to her inner thighs to keep her still, and pressed his mouth against her sex through her pants; her heady scent filled him, the material already wet with her arousal as he let out a heavy, hot breath before he _sucked_.

“Oh god!” she cried, her back arching, her hips moving against him as she shoved his face against her. He hummed, pressing his tongue against the length of her, making her shout, her hips moving faster, her hands holding him closer. “More, more… more…” Oliver hummed again, and she cried out, “There, there, there… yes, oh god, oh god, yes…”

He could taste her… but it was just a hint. She was so hot, her juices leaking through, but it wasn’t enough.

He needed _more_.

Oliver pulled back, breathing heavy, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her pants. Felicity instantly lifted her hips, her lids hooded, her eyes glazed with pleasure and desire as he peeled her pants and panties down, revealing her wet sex to his hungry eyes. She was _gorgeous_ \- red and puffy, so wet she glistened. Oliver tossed her pants away, looking back up at her.

Their eyes met, and time stopped. Oliver, with deliberate slowness, bent over and pressed a soft kiss to her pubic bone.

They both knew what he was doing, what he was asking - _‘is this was okay, is it was okay if I keep going’_ …

“Yes,” Felicity breathed. “Yes, please… please, Oliver, please, I need to feel… I need you…” 

“Felicity,” he groaned, dragging her name out, and then he dove back in, spreading her legs again, his lips blanketing her drenched sex.

She was pure musk, pure Felicity, and he’d never tasted anything as amazing. Oliver lapped at her, her whimpering cries filling the garage, echoing the song. He slid his tongue down her lips, pressing it to her opening, and she thrust against his face wildly, without rhythm; he could feel her need to come in the way she trembled, the way her thighs quaked, the way her hands desperately grasped at his hair.

His dick strained against his jeans, swelling as he tasted her, as he thrust his tongue into her tight channel, eating her out, her juices coating his face… he grew harder, thinking about thrusting into her, filling her, how good she’d feel, so tight and wet and hot…

Oliver’s patience snapped.

He slid his mouth up to her clit and he wrapped his lips around it, flicking his tongue over it.

“Aah!” Felicity shouted,  her back bowing, nearly falling off the chair, but he held her still, spreading her futher so he could have more. Oliver pulled back a little, his tongue still flicking over her clit… she shook in his hands, her hips yanking against his hold as her pleasure built in quick, hard jerks against his face.

Her thigh muscles clenched under his hands, a surge of wetness surging from her, her cries growing louder…

“Please,” she begged, her voice rasping. “Please, please, Oliver, please, I can’t… I need more, I need… god, I’m so close, please…”

Oliver flattened his tongue against her clit and _rubbed_ , wrapping his lips around the sensitive flesh, sucking at the same time.

Felicity’s hips bucked as she chased her release, her hands shoving him as hard as she could against herself as she rode his tongue.

She got closer, her body growing taut, her hips moving erratically…

“Aah! Aah, oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t… ah, ah, ah!”

Her clit pearled under his tongue, her hood slipping back completely and he sucked on it, rubbing it against his tongue, her shouts filling his ears. Everything inside her tightened before she exploded, coming with a loud cry all over his face.  Oliver kept his face buried between her legs, licking at her wetness as she undulated on the chair, the sounds she made filling the air, filling him… making his cock strain against his jeans with need.

After a moment, Felicity’s grip in his hair softened, her moans dying down… and then she tugged, pushing him back. Oliver sat up just as she did on the chair; her face was lax with pleasure, gorgeously flushed and sated, her thighs wet with her juices, the chair slick.

Oliver wiped his face, his mind barely able to think about what happened next, what happened past him thrusting so deeply into her he didn’t know who ended where…

“Oliver…”

Felicity pushed his hand out of the way, her lips clashing against his. His moan matched hers as he wrapped his arms around her, shivering when she wasted no time, her nails scraping down his chest, to his jeans where her shaky fingers found his zipper. Felicity pushed it down, shoving both her hands into his pants… she gasped when she found only him.

She wrapped one hand around him, her other slipping down to cup his balls tightly.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned against her lips, his hips thrusting into her grasp, a deep well of pleasure instantly springing up as her little fingers grasped him - _tightly_ \- pumping his hard length, her fingers tightening even more when she reached the head. She twisted her hand, making him jerk, and he felt the hot drip of precum slipping out, staining his jeans.

Oliver whimpered at the thought of her jacking him off, of her pushing him onto his back and her straddling his legs, her wet heat rubbing against his legs as her sexy mouth sucked him off…

But he needed to be inside her more. He needed to feel her… he wanted to come _inside_ her.

This fucking chair wouldn’t do.

Oliver broke the kiss off and pulled her hands out of his pants, picking her up off the chair in the next breath, making her gasp in surprise.

Felicity wrapped her legs around him as he stood on unsteady legs, her lips falling on his again with mutual desperation. She was _insatiable_. Oliver walked blindly towards the workbench he knew was somewhere… he swung a hand out and found it, immediately depositing her on top of it, his hands already moving to spread her open.

Felicity’s hands dropped eagerly to his jeans, shoving them down his hips, freeing his cock. His pants fell down his legs, pooling at his feet as she grasped him, spreading her legs even more and pulling him closer.

Oliver pulled back to look at her as she positioned him at her entrance, feeling her wetness already, making his body clench… _she was_ _so wet_.

She looked thoroughly ravished, her lips swollen, her makeup smudged, a light sheen of sweat covering her… she was stunning.

Oliver cupped her face and kissed her, softly. She whimpered, somewhere deep in her chest, and he felt his expanding as he continued. He sipped at her lips, tasting her, feeling her… the kisses slowly grew heavier with need, turning ferocious. Felicity returned them with equal fervor, her hips moving on the workbench, moving against him.  She grasped him and pressed the head of his cock right where she needed it…

Oliver slid one of his hands down her body to her knee, wrenching it up, spreading her wide as he thrust into her.

“Aahh!” she keened, echoing his own cries. Oliver pushed her leg up further, opening her more, going _deeper_.

He pulled out and thrust back in, again… and again…

It was too much.

She felt so good, wrapped around him, sucking him in deeper. She was so wet, so hot… it felt amazing, _she_ felt amazing, as she opened herself to him, wrapping her other leg around his hips, her arms around his neck, burying her face against his as he fucked her on the workbench.

His cries matched hers, both growing louder and louder, the sound of flesh slapping flesh echoing in the garage.

“Oh god!” Oliver groaned, feeling the white hot pleasure at the base of his spine coiling tighter and tighter. “Oh fuck, Felicity…”

“Yes, Oliver… yes, yes, yes…” She pulled back just enough to slip her hand between them; her fingers found her clit, and she barely had to touch it, barely had a second to rub herself - and _fuck_ , that only made him harder, made him thrust into her with more desperation - before she was coming again, her back bowing, his name slipping from her lips.

Her walls clamped down around him, pulling on him, and Oliver thrust into her harder and harder, gritting his teeth as he chased his release, holding her so tightly, wanting more, needing more…

“Ooh… aah!” Oliver came with a vicious shout, burying himself inside her as deep as he could, the pleasure ripping through him. He spilled into her, her inner walls milking him for everything he had as they clung to each other, their bodies still rocking, riding the pleasure until they finally fell still.

His entire body shook, his mind numbed.

He felt her soft scratches on his neck, her lips against his cheek, his ear, the soft aftershocks rippling through her…

She was whispering something.

“Wow… oh my god, wow…”

Oliver smiled, giving her a breathy chuckle.

“Wow,” he agreed. “Very… very wow.”

She laughed, almost incredulously, and he turned his face towards hers, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her ear. He dragged his stubble against her until he found her lips again.

She gave him a beautifully breathless whine as they kissed.

Felicity hummed contentedly before she pulled away, just enough to see him.

“So…” she started.

Oliver raised an eyebrow, still catching his breath. 

“That was very neighborly.”

Oliver laughed, his body shaking; he felt himself slipping out of her and his hips surged forward, not wanting to leave her just yet. She gasped, shuddering, wrapping herself around him a little tighter.

“I think this is the part where I ask…” Oliver paused, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Felicity, would you like to go out with me?”

Felicity grinned, shaking her head as she kissed him once, twice… He returned them, nuzzling her nose with his.

“I take that as a yes,” he whispered against her lips, an she nodded.

“Definitely a yes…” She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in closer. He groaned when he shifted inside her. “And I definitely think we should order something in…” She kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip. “And you should definitely give me a neighborly tour of your house.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/125034573694/i-just-want-to-start-by-saying-youre-amazing)
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	38. Missed Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous asked: Prompt: Felicity packing for a business trip and Oliver seeing vibrator in her bag. That leads to stuff.. Or: Oliver coming back sexually frustrated from business trip and seeing Felicity very happy and content unlike him. He finds out the reason when he sees the new vibrator on their nightstand or something. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of National Orgasm Day (July 31)!

She’d missed her flight.

She was vaguely aware of this, vaguely aware that she’d yelled at Oliver about it when she’d seen the time an hour ago, realizing her flight was due to take off in fifteen minutes… vaguely aware that Oliver had made a call, approving whatever change fee they’d charged to get a flight out the next morning instead of tonight.

Tonight was supposed to be about preparing for the presentation tomorrow, preparing to wow Gotham with what she had in store for Queen, Inc… instead, it was about something else.

Something very, very, very else.

Felicity dug her fingers into the bedspread, her arms shaking, her skin covered in a fine dewy sweat that had  her shivering every time Oliver lifted his head long enough to blow a cool stream over her heated stomach; goosebumps would erupt all over her body, skating over her, making her nipples harden painfully, making her naked sex throb. Her limbs felt like they’d detached long ago - she was actually limbless right now, very sans limbs, very… very languidly sans limbs.

God, she couldn’t even _think_.

“Oliver,” she whimpered, her thighs quaking as she dug her feet into the edge of the mattress, her hips trying to yearn towards him but his arm wrapped around her hip and across her abdomen had her pinned.

She probably didn’t have the strength to do it anyway.

Four. She’d already had four mind-blowing, jaw-dropping, make-you-scream-until-you-can’t-see-scream-no-more ones…

And he was _still going_ , building her up to her _fifth_ one.

She’d tried to kick him away, but he’d overpowered her easily, pressing her back against the bed again with a sinister smirk on his lips…

She hadn’t tried that hard, but maybe she should have because this…

This was too much.

Hair plastered to her face, her breathing harsh, hitching with every single movement he made, she moaned when Oliver shifted his arm across her stomach, moving his hand down to spread her nether lips open to his hungry eyes.

Oliver leaned in, letting out a deep breath against her sensitive folds, making her quiver, as he slowly - _slowly_ \- pushed the vibrator back into her.  She was so wet it slid in with ease, scraping against her inner walls, the vibrations set to its lowest setting as he filled her once more.

Oh _god_ , she couldn’t take it.

“It’s too much,” she whispered rapidly, trying to pull back but he held her down. She shook her head, a pained whimper slipping from her lips as he pushed the vibrator in as deep as it would go. Her walls clamped down around it, the gentle vibrations traveling through her until she felt it in every inch of her body.

Oliver didn’t relent; instead, he twisted it and she gasped, digging her fingers into the mattress as hard as she could as the vivid sensations washed through her.

He spread her puffy lips even more, spreading her as wide as he could, and she felt every single tug of it, pulling at her entrance, at her clit, at her… at her _everything_ …

Oliver’s tongue gently touched her delicate clit; it was so sensitive and over-used it felt like so much more than that, and she jerked against his face, yelping, “Oh god!” as her inner walls fluttered around the vibrator.

He lapped at her, keeping her still, leaning over her until his broad shoulders kept her legs spread wide open for him to feast on her.

He kept spinning the vibrator, his tongue stroking her clit, and despite herself, Felicity felt the orgasm growing… it burned like acid inside her veins, a wicked fire licking across her body, leaving her flushed and chilled at the same time. She was making sounds, she knew she was making sounds, knew she was crying out, her body undulating against his mouth; she felt one hand fisting the blanket while the other found the back of his head…

She started thrusting up against his mouth - she needed more, she needed so much more… how could she need more, how was he able to wring these out of her, how could he…

Oliver wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking on it slightly, making her back bow, a ragged cry ripping from her throat.

And then he was pulling the vibrator out, barely, but she felt every single inch of it as he thrust it back into her, keeping it buried deep as he could, thrusting it in and out shallowly.

“Ooh good,” Felicity whined. Another surge of her juices flooded her sex, slipping down her ass, onto the bed, against his bare chest, his hands slick, his chin covered in her from being buried down there since he’d found the vibrator in her suitcase…

He kept thrusting it into her, kept sucking on her…

Oliver suddenly stopped and shifted, his thumb finding the controls, and before she could yell at him to not do it, he jacked the button up as high as it would go, the vibrations tripling.

“Aaahh!” Felicity cried, her voice filling the room. She grabbed fistfuls of hair and held him still, her hips thrusting up to meet him, the vibrations filling her completely, so completely, his tongue sucking on her clit…

She was so close, but she couldn’t… she’d come too many times, she didn’t have any more in her, she couldn’t…

With a gasp of pained despair, she fell back on the bed, gasping, “Oliver, I can’t, I can’t, please, I can’t.” Her neck was starting to strain from shaking so much. “I can’t do it, I can’t, please, please, don’t… please…”

He ignored her. His thrusts became faster, harder, as he shoved the vibrator in deep, over and over…

Oliver started humming around her clit.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, Oliver… Oliver, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Tremors shook her straight to her core as she the painful pleasure started to increase, started to burn hotter, started to take over…

And then Oliver’s lips closed around her tender clit and _sucked_.

She gave him a short, sharp cry as that shoved her up on a precipice right before… Oliver scraped his teeth down her clit, and she exploded against him, the white hot pleasure searing through her entire body. It cascaded through her in painful waves, leaving painful pricks in its stead, swamping her as a sheet of white bursting across her eyelids… and then nothing.

The vibrations suddenly stopped, and she whimpered pitifully when Oliver slowly pulled the vibrator out of her.

She was completely limp as he stood up, completely unable to open her eyes when she heard the gentle rasping of his hand wiping his face clean, the shift of his boxers where she knew he was hard…

She couldn’t do anything but _exist_ as he bent over her and lifted her up, moving to settle her against the pillows.

He crawled onto the bed next to her, pulling her against his chest. She barely had enough energy to move her face just enough so she didn’t suffocate in the Land of Oliver Muscle.

“Felicity…”

She could only whine.

“You were right,” he whispered into her hair. He pressed a soft kiss there, adjusting her slightly before he settled back.

Felicity tapped her finger in acknowledgement, in question.

“I do like the vibrator,” he said, and she didn’t have to see him to know he was grinning.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/125546574944/prompt-felicity-packing-for-a-business-trip-and)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	39. Only I Get To Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Prompt - Anonymous asked: Omg write a sequel if that last prompt when Oliver is allowed to watch but not touch. AT ALL. Maybe even some bondage included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [Chapter 28: Serious Business](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253/chapters/9236347)

Oliver always woke when Felicity did; it never failed, whether she was just stretching to rearrange herself, or getting up to go to the bathroom, or if she had to be into work early, he always woke with her. It was like he had an internal alarm that was set to Felicity Time; he was always aware of what she was doing, and this time was no different.

And just like every other time, she was very aware that he was awake too.

Oliver didn’t move when she rolled out of bed. He listened to her padding around the room, opening a drawer, pulling something soft out before stepping into the closet. A soft swoosh sounded from in there and then she was back out, climbing back on the mattress.

The bed dipping, she settled down next to him and he sighed happily, turning to wrap his arms around her waist but she had other plans.

“Roll over,” she whispered, her little hands pushing against his side. Oliver rolled onto his back, his lips tugged up in a small smile. The bed dipped further as she balanced on her knees, leaning over him. Her long hair drifted over his chest, and he hummed under his breath, the soft sound turning into a slight moan when her hands slid over him, up to his shoulders.

She pushed his arms over his head.

Oliver’s eyes opened a crack, wondering what she was doing.

Her beautiful breasts were right over his face.

_She was naked._

His smile widened and he moved his mouth up to drag his tongue along the underside of one perfectly shaped mound. 

She gasped.

“Good morning,” Felicity whispered, her voice still husky with sleep, a soft smile softening the word, and he responded by lifting his head to capture her nipple between his lips. She gasped again, arching her back as he sucked on her gently, flicking his tongue of the hard nub, sucking harder to pull more of her breast inside his mouth 

Felicity gave him a tiny moan from deep in her chest, one that had his cock hardening, but she didn’t stop whatever the hell she was doing up there…

He let that breast go, moving to her other nipple, his brain still foggy - they’d had to rush out when Diggle called about an emergent lead, one that had led to them spending nearly the entire night stuffed in a van, waiting for said lead to finally show his face, which he finally, around three in the morning.

They’d fallen into bed barely four hours ago. He was ready to sleep for another twelve hours, but if she had something else in mind, he was all for it…

Oliver felt her winding something soft around his wrists. He released her breast with a quiet pop and furrowed his brow, looking up.

She was tying him to bed, with what looked like a belt from one of her jackets.

His cock was officially awake.

“Uh, Felicity…?”

“Hmm?” she asked, her face soft with sleepy determination, that small smile going nowhere as she continued. Oliver watched her tie a very good knot - too good, the knot was too good - before she pulled his other hand up, doing the same until his wrists were lashed together, attached to their headboard.

Felicity sat back, admiring her work.

“Pull,” she said simply, patting his chest and Oliver did, tugging on his bindings. They were secure, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. He looked up, pulling on them again, yanking the headboard with him - they were _really_ good knots.

“Those are really good knots,” he rasped dumbly, pulling again and she smiled, her movements sluggish with sleep.

“Thank you,” she replied, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Oliver instantly forgot about his hands, turning his head to capture her lips but she dodged him, nuzzling him instead, dragging her face down his, her lips finding his jaw. He sighed, angling his head to give her room as she worked her way towards his ear lobe. When her hot little mouth tugged it between her teeth, he jerked against her, his hips thrusting up as he strained against his tight boxers. She ran her hands down his body, dragging her nails over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path.

Oliver’s eyes fluttered shut, letting his head fall back as she languidly worked her way down his body. She kissed and sucked, nipping here and there, making him gasp. He tugged on his bonds, wanting to feel her for himself, but… they were damn good knots.

This was a hell of way to wake up after such a long night. The day before had been perfect, a day for just them. They’d lain in bed all day, making love, watching bad TV, talking, just existing with each other… he’d never forget the look on her face when he’d accidentally sneezed on her; even now it made him grin - she’d looked incredulously affronted. It had been perfect… and then that lead had come in, interrupting their impromptu nap and her promise to let him _watch_.

Oliver’s eyes snapped open in anticipation, wondering just what she had in mind.

Felicity reached his boxers and hooked her fingers in, yanking them down.

Oliver’s breath hitched when his hard cock bounced free, standing tall, the head already gleaming slightly with precum. He watched her with hooded eyes, the anticipation turning into something hotter and more leaden in his veins as she pulled his boxers down just enough, leaving them bunched around his knees.

Her hands ran up his legs and over his thighs, over his hips, her fingers following all his ridges, her gaze on his cock.

Oliver licked his lips, lifting his hips, his eyes on her lips, his mind already two steps ahead, perfectly imagining how warm her mouth would be, how her teeth would feel when she would drag them up his shaft, her tongue swirling around him…

Felicity sat up.

Oliver couldn’t stop his frown, his eyes meeting hers when she looked up at him, and she giggled at the look on his face.

“Did you forget about watching?” she asked playfully, crawling up his body. Oliver took a shaky breath as his cock scraped over her breasts and her stomach. He tugged on his bindings, wanting to grab her, wanting to spread her legs over him and thrust up into her.

His cock swelled at the thought of her wet heat clamping down on him… but the knots held.

“I didn’t forget,” he said breathlessly, shaking his head, and Felicity gave him a lazy grin - her hair was mussed from sleep, a light line still on her cheek from her pillow, her eyes growing darker with her arousal… she was sexy as hell.

She gave him a quick, chaste kiss, one that he tried to deepen but she pulled away before he could…

And flipped herself around, straddling his chest backwards, leaving her ass a few inches from his face.

“Felicity,” Oliver gasped, his hips straining up in a burst of arousal. Her hands found his hips, using them to hold herself up as she slowly lowered herself onto his chest…

Fuck, she was _wet_.

“Oh god,” Oliver choked, yanking on his arms again, but they held. He only had eyes for her beautiful backside as she slowly rotated her hips, tossing her head back so her hair cascaded down her naked back. He tried to remember how to breathe as she dug her fingers into his hips, lifting herself up and down slightly, pressing her soaking sex against him. “Felicity…”

Her answer was a soft moan, one that he felt in every inch of his body, one that had him yanking on the bed again - he had to _touch_ her, he _needed_ to touch her - but the knots stayed secure. He growled under his breath, his mouth starting to water with the need to taste those delicious juices starting to seep all over him, but he couldn’t.

His palms actually burned.

Felicity rotated her hips a little faster, just a little, just enough to increase the friction; she started rocking against him, and he cursed, his eyes on her ass cheeks, unable to look away as they clenched with each thrust, rippling with each movement.

God, she was _gorgeous_ , so gorgeous, so perfect…

“Felicity,” he groaned, and he thrust his hips up again. “Let me touch you… please…”

She moaned - he could picture her face perfectly, her eyes closed, her open in a whiny gasp as she bit her lip, slowly letting it slip through her teeth, her face taut with pleasure.

“Please,” he moaned.

Felicity shook her head, her long hair dancing over her back, grazing the top of her ass.

“Damn it,” Oliver moaned and she gave him a breathy chuckle, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He nearly came at the look in her eye.

“I thought you wanted to watch,” she whispered.

Oliver shook his head rapidly, his eyes falling back to her ass. “I want to watch _and_ touch.”

Felicity gave him a fake pout, her hips still moving over him, spreading _more_ of her sweet nectar all over him; the pout made him inhale quickly, his nostrils flaring, his palms burning hotter with the need to grab her.

“Poor Oliver,” she said, shaking her head. He glared at her, earning himself a wink before she leaned over, lifting herself up, giving him the perfect view of her sweet, pink sex. “Only I get to touch.”

Her hair swept over his cock, sending a torrent of sensation through him.

Felicity slipped her hand between her legs just as she wrapped her lips around his cock.

“Oh god, Felicity,” he whimpered, his hips thrusting up before he could stop them. She wrapped her other hand around the base of his shaft, squeezing him to keep him still as the hand between her legs spread her ample juices all over herself.

His eyes were glued to her hand, his mouth open in a desperate pant at the heady combination of watching her play with herself _right there_ and her tongue swirling around the head of his cock, slipping over the little slit, making him jerk again.

Her fingers moved over her clit, making a soft wet noise - she was so wet, she was gleaming - as she rubbed the sensitive flesh. He watched her dip her fingers towards her entrance, spreading more of that wetness all over; her inner walls clamped down when she dipped a finger inside herself, and he watched, mesmerized when her tiny puckered back hole clenched at the same time.

“Felicity…”

Her fingers found her clit again, rubbing it gently, so gently…

Oliver yearned towards her, wanting to taste her, wanting to replace her fingers with his tongue, wanting to feel her grind herself against his face, riding his tongue, taste her as she came… but she was just out of reach, a few inches too far; she was so close he could smell how aroused she was.

She took more of his cock into her mouth, lowering slowly, taking her time, abso-fucking-lutely killing him. She grasped the base of his shaft, making him moan, his eyes almost falling shut but he couldn’t stop watching her hand as she stroked herself…

Oliver didn’t recognize the urgent sounds he was making as he was forced to just _watch_ , unable to do anything.

Felicity gradually built a steady rhythm, squeezing the base of his cock each time her head bobbed down to take him deeper, her tongue swirling over him, harder with each pass, sucking more each time. Her hair was draped across his naked thighs, slipping between his legs, and he felt the soft strands gently stroking his balls, upping their sensitivity to almost painful levels as she sucked on him…

And all the while, her fingers kept rubbing her clit.

She spread her legs, spreading her gorgeous sex even more, and he could perfectly see her sweet wetness slipping down her thighs, dripping down her hand onto his chest.

“God, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice breaking, and she hummed around him, making him cry.

Her fingers moved faster over her clit, her hips starting to bounce, to meet her gentle movements, the bed moving along with them.

“Fuck, Felicity…!” Her name ended in a frantic moan, his hips rising to meeting her mouth when she scraped her teeth along the underside of his cock.

Oliver could do nothing but _watch_ …

 _Feel_.

She sucked on him, her tongue doing fucking amazing things to him, his body burning with white hot need; his eyes blurred when the head of his cock hit the back of her throat.

His hands fisted, fighting the urge to pull as hard as he could, knowing it’d do nothing, but needing to taste her so badly… needing to imitate her tongue, needing to use it to thrust into her, needing to feel her on his face…

Like his arms had a mind of their own, he yanked on his bindings, the harsh bite of the jacket belt digging into the delicate skin of his wrists only amplifying the pleasure coursing through him.

Felicity squeezed him and rotated her hand, sending a streak of heat through him. Oliver moaned loudly, crying out as the pleasure suddenly sharpened, almost painfully.

“Oh god, Felicity, just like that… don’t stop… Felicity…”

He couldn’t look away. Her hips moved faster as she rode her fingers, her own moans starting to vibrate through his cock, making the coil of pleasure at the base of his spine tighten more, more…

“Oh fuck, fuck, Felicity… Felicity… oh god…”

Pleasure swamped his mind, his eyes mindlessly glued to her open sex, the sight making everything seem so much sharper, so much more… fucking amazing - god he couldn’t even think, he couldn’t…

Felicity’s back suddenly arched and she released his cock with a sharp cry.

“Aahhh,” she gasped, the hand between her legs moving faster, so much faster, her fingers around his cock squeezing him to the point of pain as she bowed her head, concentrating on the release he could read in her body, in her shaking thighs, in the way her skin flushed, the light sheen of sweat… the rush of her juices as she rubbed herself _faster_.

It was the most erotic fucking thing he’d ever seen, and he immediately thrust up in her hand, chasing his own pleasure. The head of his cock brushed against her ear, against her hair, the light touches sending sharp zings through him, straight to his core…

“Oh god, oh god, I’m coming,” she breathed desperately.

“Don’t stop, Felicity,” Oliver groaned, clenching his teeth, thrusting into her hand where she still held him tightly; she shuddered over him, resting her head on his upper thigh, her hot breath dancing over his sensitive skin there, over everything there… “Don’t stop, don’t stop… come on me, Felicity, come for me, come for me… Felicity…”

Felicity’s hips suddenly froze, her hand moving so fast, the air filling with the wet sounds of her sex and their combined moans and breathy cries.

“Oliver… oh god, oh god… Oliver!” she cried out, dragging his name out until it ended in a silent shout just as she came.

Oliver watched her entire body clench with the force of her orgasm. Her muscles quivered as a rush of juices flooded her, her puckered hole clamping with each wave, her entrance gaping with the need to be filled, the pleasure shooting through her. Her hand kept moving, riding it out, and Oliver thrust into her other hand faster, barely comprehending his loud desperate moans echoing hers, seeing nothing but her wet sex as she came all over her hand, only feeling her tight fist on his cock…

Felicity turned her face towards his cock and the combined sensations of her hair and cheek and hand and watching her wetness slipping all over her fingers sent him over.

“Oh… god, aaaahhh!” Oliver shouted, and his back bowed as he came. A sheet of white skated over his lids as he spurted into her hair, onto her back, his thighs, the bed… he kept thrusting, coming all over her before darkness took over.

Her hand never relented, squeezing him, urging more out of him until he collapsed.

It took him far too long to come back. His hands were still tied over his head, hanging limply; Felicity was still draped over him, using his thigh as a pillow, her soft breath tickling the dewy hair there. He could feel her heart growing slower - he felt both of them, their steady beats in sync, growing steadier as her fingers drifted over his other leg softly.

When he opened his eyes, he still had the perfect view of her ass.

Her fingers were still buried between her legs.

Oliver moaned, so softly he barely heard it.

_Wow._

“I need a shower now,” Felicity said absently, her chest vibrating with her words, and Oliver blinked. He lifted his head to look down at her - he’d come all over the bed, her, and himself.

“Me too,” he replied breathlessly, and Felicity giggled.

After a moment, she sat up, barely having enough strength to reach back and untie his hands. He took a second to rub the feeling back into his arms, letting the tingly feeling abate a little as she stretched her arms over her head where she still straddled his chest.

When she settled over him again, finally moving to get up, Oliver gripped her hips and yanked her back, burying his face between her legs.

Felicity came harder the second time, her nails digging so hard into his thighs she drew blood.

He took her again in the shower with the showerhead between her thighs before sleeping the rest of the morning away.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/125718395769/omg-write-a-sequel-if-that-last-prompt-when-oliver)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	40. In The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Professor Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak, his TA. 
> 
> Felicity has taken a night job in the campus library for extra cash. Oliver finds her there late one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [In The Classroom](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253/chapters/10029464).

He found her in the far northeast corner.

Oliver froze right as he rounded the corner, his eyes dropping to the naked curve of her ass, to the soft white lace decorating her panties, to the silky thigh-highs she wore, every inch of her supple body pulled taut where she balanced on the stepladder, a neat stack of books on the little shelf to her right.

Her skirt had gotten caught under the books, lifting it up for anyone and everyone to see what she had hidden under there, for _him_ to see, and she had no idea.

She mumbled under her breath, looking at the books she held before scanning the shelf. She reached to put one in its place before looking at the other spine she held, her eyes flying back to the rows of books as she searched for where that one went.

It was nearly eleven o’clock on a Wednesday night and he’d come down looking for a new textbooks he wanted to make sure were in stock for the new semester, but nobody had been there to help him. He’d waited at the reference desk, feeling a rush of irritation when nobody came.

After five minutes, he’d stepped back there himself and found where his textbooks had been stored.

And then he’d checked the schedule.

‘Felicity Smoak - 10 p.m. to 4 a.m.’

The only place littered with students were the long work tables along the far south wall, and the rest of the library was cast in dark shadows. There were light switches along each row that anyone could turn on if they needed a book in that specific row, and as Oliver had looked around, checking to see if anyone had seen him, he’d wandered off to find her, using the lighted rows to guide him. There was only one other student in the stacks, and as Oliver made his way through, they’d finished up, turning the light off, heading back to their workstation…

Leaving only one light on.

The row where Felicity worked.

She was dressed for the part, something Oliver found irresistibly amusing and sexy as hell. She had on a sheer white blouse, a conservative white camisole underneath it, and her dark blue skirt was knee-length, something he would have found incredibly demure on her except now he knew exactly what she was wearing underneath them.

A garter belt held her stockings up, and Oliver’s eyes dropped down the curvy line of her legs to the high-heeled Mary Janes she wore.

Oliver stayed right where he was, staring at her, watching her work, his pants growing too tight as he hardened, a rush of heat crawling over the surface of his skin, his hand slowly coming up to grab the shelf he stood next to, his fingers turning white from the pressure of his grip.

She was completely oblivious, to him and to the fact that she was letting anyone who happened to walk by get a view of her shapely ass.

Something only _he_ got to see, damn it.

Oliver instantly squashed that thought.

Two months.

He’d been sleeping with his TA for two months now and he had no earthly idea how to stop it, how to slow it down, to how to tell himself that when he woke up next to her, when he watched her during class, watched her laugh when he caught her in the cafeteria or when he saw her walking across campus to get to her next class, when he looked down at her where she kneeled before him, or how she looked with her head thrown back, her mouth slack with the pleasure he was giving her…

He didn’t know how to _stop_.

He knew he had to stop, he knew it was dangerous and the longer it went on it was only going to get worse, but he just _couldn’t_. Because he didn’t want to.

Because she wasn’t sleeping with him for a grade, and he wasn’t sleeping with her because she was easy.

It just… happened.

And it kept happening.

And thinking about anything past that made it too real.

And neither of them could afford that.

Neither of them could afford _this_ , and yet… and yet neither of them could stop it. He knew it was up to him to stop it… no, it was up to both of them, wasn’t it? She was an adult, just as much as he was. And they weren’t doing this for any gain other than the instant spark of attraction they’d both felt the second they’d met last year when she’d first taken his class.

Six months later, he asked her to be his TA, and two weeks into her new assistant role, she’d kissed him. They’d danced around each other for months, never letting it go past anything because he was her professor, and she was his student, but then…

They’d been standing near the window, going through the projects his students had turned in, and he’d noticed how antsy she was. She’d been practically vibrating, and he’d said her name, in the way that he knew always made her shiver - he’d noticed it within the first few days of her taking his class - and she’d frozen.

_“Felicity? Are you…”_

She’d grabbed his hand, her other flying to his jacket, gripping it tightly as she’d pushed herself up, her lips crashing against his.

It’d been… _perfect_. Every single bit of it. The way her breath hitched, how soft her lips were, how warm she was, how good she felt pressed against him.

And then she’d ripped herself away with a gasp.

_“Oh god. Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… do that, that wasn’t… I’m gonna go, right now, and… forever, I’m gonna go forever because I can’t… believe I just did that, and…”_

She’d backed away, blushing wildly - blushing _beautifully_ \- and he’d followed her.

Her babbling had gotten worse, more incoherent and random the closer he got, and Oliver had grabbed her waist, cutting her off with another kiss.

Whatever had changed between them, it grew slowly, escalating little by little over time until she’d dropped something off at his house one night, something he’d needed for class the next day… and she’d wound up in his bed.

And now…

Felicity found the spot for the book she’d been holding and Oliver watched her blindly reach for another in her stack, picking it up, quickly glancing at the spine before scanning the shelf again. He watched the way her muscles tensed as she moved, holding her weight perfectly, her thighs brushing together, the soft rasp of her stockings rubbing, her hips moving, lifting her skirt a little higher before settling again.

She was so goddamn sexy and beautiful and amazing and gorgeous and…

Oliver stopped his thoughts right there.

No, this was…

He didn’t even know.

And he didn’t _care_.

She was whispering under her breath, and Oliver slowly let go of the shelf, moving towards her. He strained his ears to hear if anyone else was around, glancing quickly to see that everything around them was pitch black except for the softly-lit row of books.

He didn’t hear anything, he didn’t feel anything… and he moved until he was right behind her.

Oliver lifted his hands and he felt the shift in the air the second she realized something was off… but it was like she _knew_ it was him, like she knew that she didn’t have anything to be afraid of that, she was safe because it was _him_.

“Felicity,” he whispered, and she tensed for a split second in surprise, a soft, “Oh my god,” slipping out before Oliver’s hands landed on her exposed thighs. Her muscles jumped under his touch and she stood up straight, nearly dropping the book she was holding to glance over her shoulder at him.

“Oliver,” she breathed and he looked up at her. “What are you…”

“Your skirt’s caught,” he said, his voice just as soft - they _were_ in the library - and his eyes dropped back down to her luscious curves as he reached up, tugging her skirt out from under the stack of books. She turned to look at the books over her other shoulder, and he caught the bright blush crawling up her skin as she realized what he was talking about.

“Oh frak,” she whispered. “That’s… not…”

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Oliver didn’t move, he didn’t stop touching her.

Her skirt fell back down, covering his hands as he pushed them up along her legs, up to her hips, his fingers tracing the soft silky material of her panties, the tight line on her garter…

“Did you have a date tonight, Ms. Smoak?” he asked, the words coming out soft, almost futile because they both knew she hadn’t had a date…

And then Oliver faltered, for a split second, because what if she had had a date? Why else would she be dressed like this? She wouldn’t spend an overnight shift in the library wearing _that_ , would she? Not unless she’d worn it for someone, someone that wasn’t him.

“No,” she gasped, shaking her head, her hands flying to the bookshelf for something to hold onto.

Oliver really, really didn’t want to examine how happy he felt when she said that.

“So why…” he asked, his finger dragging along the edge of her garter belt.

“I don’t… I thought… I thought I might see you tonight, and I wanted to…”

Her words had him soaring - she’d worn them for _him_.

Oliver’s fingers tightened, digging into her, making her hiss.

For _him_ , she’d worn them for him.

The words were like a mantra in his head and his need and desire for this woman streaked through him, his fingers hooking into her panties involuntarily, and he knew he was five seconds from ripping them off her and taking her right there.

But they couldn’t, not there, not where anyone could see them, could see her.

Oliver bit the tip of his tongue and took in a slow breathe.

“Hold on, Felicity,” he whispered, and she shuddered, looking back at him over her shoulder.

Oliver looked up, meeting her eye, raising an eyebrow in warning before he kneeled down behind her on one knee, urging her to step down one rung on the stepladder so she was at the perfect height.

“Oliver,” she gasped, doing as he’d instructed, shoving her face against the shelf as she held on. “What if someone sees?”

The thought almost made him stop, it almost made him realize how very fucking far gone he was when it came to her, but he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He didn’t want to.

Oliver didn’t answer her.

Quick, he’d be quick.

He wanted to do something, anything; he wanted to taste her, he wanted to feel her convulsing around him, feel her losing control because of him, her the noises she’d make, knowing the entire time that she’d dressed this way for him, that she’d come in tonight with the intention of finding him, wanting to see him, wanting to touch him, wanting him to touch her…

“Oliver, what if…”

“Shh.”

 _He just didn’t care_.

Oliver lifted her skirt up, exposing her ass to his hungry gaze. He hooked the material in the top of her panties and spread her ass, causing her to try to widen her legs as much as she could but Oliver stopped her, his hands dropping to her thighs, keeping them together, keeping her in place.

“Lean forward,” he whispered.

Felicity did, but not without a soft, “Oliver, we can’t…”

“Yes,” he replied, nodding, his eyes on the tiny wet spot already forming on her panties. She was wet - _for him_. “We can.”

Oliver wanted to pull her panties aside and thrust his fingers into her. He wanted her to ride his hand until she was weeping with pleasure. He wanted to taste her juices, feel them streaking down his chin as she came, feel her clit growing harder under his tongue as she thrust up into his face, but they didn’t have time for that.

Oliver inhaled the heady scent of her arousal, his hands coming back up to her ass, to spread _her_ , his eyes slipping shut, his mouth watering…

“God, Felicity,” he gasped, making her whimper above him.

Oliver shoved his face between her legs.

“Oh…!” Felicity moaned and then the sound of her hand clamping over her mouth muffled the rest of her sounds as Oliver opened his mouth and sucked her through her panties.

It was an assault on every inch of her, and not one bit of her was spared as he pushed his tongue against her, the silky material already slick with her desires, sliding right against her, pushing between her puffy nether lips , moving down until he found her clit.

“Oh god,” Felicity whined, leaning forward more, thrusting back against his face as he ate her out through her panties, her hips rotating, seeking _more_ , and he gave it to her.

It was quick and hard.

Oliver sucked on her, rocking his face against her, rooting around until she gave him that telltale gasp that told him he’d found the spot. He opened his mouth, letting his teeth graze over her, spreading her even more so he could push his tongue through her panties, pushing until he felt the hot gush of her juices, felt her quivering entrance, the desperate groan when his chin found her clit…

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Felicity whispered, her body trembling with her release, the stepladder starting to shake. Oliver’s hand shot out to still it but not before the books went tumbling, crashing to the floor. Felicity gasped, trying to stand up with a shocked, “Oh!”

Oliver stopped her.

He felt the break in her concentration, felt the streak of mortified awareness as she realized they were being too loud, but in the next second he was yanking her attention back to him, to what he was doing as he dipped down and found her clit through her panties.

Oliver _sucked_ , as hard as he could, making her shudder as she nearly fell back against the shelf.

Her hips thrust back against his face mindlessly, rubbing herself against him, riding him, her pleasure mounting.

Oliver inhaled sharply, smelling only her, feeling only her, his nose digging against her entrance, his face wet with her juices as he sucked her off…

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver…! Oh god!”

He felt her peak, felt her body stiffening and his hands flew to her hips to keep her steady…

Felicity came with a strangled shout against him, her back arching with the force of the orgasm exploding inside her. He pushed his face deeper, delighting in the rush of wetness soaking through her panties and onto his face, at the noises she made, barely muffled by her hand, at the way the shelf shook with the force of her grip on it, at the way the stepladder quaked beneath them.

He sucked until she couldn’t take it anymore, until she was whimpering his name over and over, barely able to keep herself upright.

Oliver pulled back, slowly standing up, ignoring the ache in his knee. His hands never left her as she slumped against she shelf, mumbling over and over, “Oh god… oh god, oh god… Oliver… oh god…”

He wiped his face off on his arm before helping her off the stepladder, holding her up when her legs buckled.

Oliver wasted no time in spinning her around and pushing her back over the stepladder, his mouth covering hers.

A muffled cry fell from deep in her chest as she wound her arms around his neck, arching her back to get closer to him, another cry echoing from her when he rubbed himself against her, pressing the obvious bulge in his pants into her stomach.

But not there, they couldn’t do it there.

Oliver pulled back with a strained whimper, his nose brushing against hers.

She inhaled quickly and he knew she could smell herself all over him as their lips brushed together.

“Come see me on your break,” Oliver whispered.

She managed a soft, “Hmm,” in reply, kissing him again, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“God…” he gasped, thrusting against her. “I need you, Felicity.”

She shuddered.

He kissed his way along her jaw until he reached her throat before he worked his way up to her ear.

“Come find me.”

With one last kiss, one where she opened herself for him and nipped at his lips, Oliver pulled back… and left her panting, slumped against the stepladder, both of them knowing she was taking her break early that night.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/133213385959/holy-god-i-read-your-teacherstudent-olicity-and)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse. Thank you for reading!


	41. Across the Hall: Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, PWP. Felicity and Oliver live across the hall from each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I’m writing right now has feelings and I don’t want to write about feelings… so I wrote some PWP.

Felicity frowned at the cupboard, the very empty cupboard, the very empty-of-sugar cupboard.  


She had no sugar.

_She had no sugar._

She’d forgotten to pick up sugar on her way home last night and now she was sugarless, and she _needed_ sugar in her coffee. It wasn’t even an option, sugarless coffee - she’d tried it once and the result had led to a twenty-minute rant about how in the world she’d gotten to the point where she needed sugar in her coffee, including her dangerous obsession with Starbucks and the insane amount of sugar her mother puts in her coffee.

She needed sugar.

And she’d already started a pot of coffee and she wasn’t about to _waste_ coffee just because she didn’t have sugar…

But she didn’t want to go to the store.

Felicity grabbed her MIT sweatshirt and pulled it on, tugging it into place as she grabbed her keys and opened her front door.

She barely glanced around. Her neighbors were more than used to what she looked like on the weekend, Oliver in particular; her wandering around with her face still sleep-smooshed, hair up in a messy, lopsided bun and ratty sweats was of the norm around these parts so she just readjusted the sweatshirt - the hallways in their building were always freezing - and pulled her door closed behind her before darting across the hall.

Fitting the key into the lock, she let herself into Oliver’s apartment.

It was well past ten in the morning, but the entire place was silent.

He was still sleeping.

Slowly pocketing the keys, Felicity angled her head towards Oliver’s bedroom to see if she’d woken him but she heard nothing.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she switched the light on, heading straight for the cupboard above his coffee machine. This wasn’t the first time and it darn well wouldn’t be the last time. Oliver didn’t use nearly as much sugar as she did in her house - it was both a conundrum to her and a blessing because it meant he always had sugar when she needed sugar, such as right now.

She _needed_ coffee, and she _needed_ sugar in her coffee.

Felicity opened the cupboard, her eyes lighting on the heavenly package.

With a silent, “Aha,” Felicity pushed herself up onto her toes to grab the sugar bag… well, she _tried_ to grab the sugar bag but it was all the… way… up… there.

“God, why does he have to be so tall?” Felicity whispered, half-climbing onto the counter until her fingers hooked in the edge of the bag and she yanked on it just enough that it fell into her hand. With a quiet huff, she climbed back down and closed the cupboard. She might have considered just taking what she needed for her coffee, but keeping it so damn high when he knew he had vertically-challenged neighbors was just rude, so she was taking the entire thing.

Felicity switched the light off and left the kitchen.

She was halfway to the front door when she heard a soft groan and something shifting on his couch.

Felicity’s eyes snapped shut with a wince and she froze… maybe he didn’t even know she was there…

“Are you stealing from me, Felicity?” his rough sleep-laden voice asked, coming right from the couch and she deflated.

“No,” Felicity scoffed. “I’m _borrowing_. How’d you even know it was me?”

“Polite people knock before they barge into their neighbor’s apartment.”

“Hey, I’m polite.”

“You _never_ knock. And if you’re so polite then why are you taking the entire bag?”

“I…” Felicity scowled at the couch, shifting the sugar. “I didn’t bring a measuring cup.”

“That’s because you don’t have a measuring cup,” he said, his voice muffled as he dug his face into the couch cushion.

“Hey, I could have a measuring cup,” Felicity said, shuffling over to the couch as he shifted again, letting out a deep sigh like he had zero plans to move for the rest of the day. “You don’t know if I don’t have a measuring cup. I could be measuring stuff all the time and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“Like what?”

“Like… _stuff_ , that’s…”

Felicity rounded the couch, expecting to see a hungover Oliver still dressed in last night’s clothes. That’s not what she saw. She paused, her eyes widening as she took him.

“… what,” she finished halfheartedly, her body clenching.

He was naked, completely and totally and absolutely _naked_. He was sprawled out over his couch on his stomach, his face buried in his arms, the blanket he’d started out with pushed to the side, leaving _nothing_ to the imagination. Her mouth went dry as she took in the way the muscles in his back moved, from his shoulders right down to that _amazing_ ass of his, the ass that was moving as he readjusted again, as he took a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh of air. He relaxed into the couch - such a good couch, she loved his couch, it was huge and fluffy and it held his frame so _nicely_ …

“You better bring it back this time,” he mumbled. She barely heard him. “I’m pretty sure you owe me at least a hundred dollars-worth of sugar at this point.”

“Uh-huh,” she breathed. Need rushed through her, a low burn starting deep in the pit of her stomach. It slowly spread through her as she stared at him. Felicity swallowed, her eyes glued to his ass. “Oliver, you’re naked.”

He just grunted, like he was thoroughly unimpressed with that fact.

“That’s it?” Felicity asked. “That’s all you have to say? I just walked into your apartment…”

“You’ve seen me naked before,” he managed to get in but she talked right over him.

“… and you don’t even care that you’re naked on the couch like you do this every day or… oh my god, do you do this every day?”

“It’s too early for this, Felicity.”

“Because if you do this every day, I might need… sugar. Every day.”

He huffed out a sleepy laugh, but he still didn’t move.

That was her cue. He obviously wanted to sleep more, and she had her sugar, and that was her cue to leave, to go back to her apartment, to maybe take an early shower and get intimate with that showerhead, but either way, that was her cue.

But she didn’t leave.

No, no, she definitely did not leave… because she needed something to think about when she got into the shower, that’s why. Not that her imagination wasn’t amazing, but real life was _even better_.

And she did have to thank him for the sugar.

Felicity licked her lips and moved towards the couch, setting the sugar down on the coffee table.

“Oliver,” she whispered, leaning down, her fingers grazing over his shoulder blade. He barely twitched, which told her he’d heard every single movement she’d made, so he knew exactly where she was. “Sit up.”

He grunted, not getting up… but he did move, shifting slightly, pressing his hips deep into the couch, making that gorgeous ass of his clench.

Her mouth _watered_ at the sight.

Felicity nudged his shoulder. “Up.”

“Felicity…” he groaned, but he did move.

Oliver pushed himself up just enough to be sitting and her eyes instantly found his semi-erect cock as she moved just enough for him to swing his legs down to the floor. She watched him scrub his face before blinking at her sleepily and _god_ , he was gorgeous, so gorgeous it made her chest hurt. His stubble was longer than usual, obviously not having had a chance to trim it just yet, and his hair was all askew from sleeping.

He looked up at her and she bit her lip at the image of pure sex he exuded.

Her panties were damp with her growing arousal.

“What?” he grunted.

Felicity didn’t reply.

Instead, she leaned over him, her hands landing on his thighs. She pushed them apart, settling on her knees before him.

His breath hitched, his lids growing heavier as he watched her.

Felicity kept her eyes on his as she slid her hands up his thighs, her fingers finding his twitching cock.

He was already growing hard, harder by the second as his breathing stuttered, his mouth closing long enough to swallow - Felicity watched his throat work, finding it ridiculously sexy, and another swath of need shot through her, making her sex clench with desire - before it fell open in a quiet pant.

She closed her fists around his cock, twisting her hands slightly as she moved up and he arched into her, his head falling back.

But he never took his eyes off her.

Felicity licked her lips, making him groan, his eyes dropping to watch her tongue slip around the edge of her mouth.

“Felicity,” he whispered, his voice cracking, his cock growing even harder.

Felicity’s response was to lean over him and guide his cock into her mouth.

“Oh god,” Oliver hissed, his hands flying to her messy hair.

He shoved his fingers into the tangled strands, gripping them tightly as she swirled her tongue around him, wetting him, taking as much of him in as she could before she pulled up, tightening her lips around his shaft, taking her sweet time to reach the tip. With each inch that left her mouth, she slowly wrapped her hands around him again, grasping him tightly.

Oliver whimpered - he was already trembling underneath her and it only got worse as she sucked on the head of his cock, sliding her tongue over the tiny slit, licking away a drop of precum.

She slowly started pumping her hands together, squeezing him rhythmically as she sucked on him, looking up at him through her lashes, her eyes meeting his as he watched her.

“Felicity…” he whined. He arched his back, his body shaking. He was still half-asleep, barely awake, and she was taking total and complete advantage of him, but he was still aware enough that he didn’t just grab her and thrust up.

Felicity knew he wanted to thrust into her mouth, he wanted to feel the hot warmth of her tongue on him, her teeth scraping him, feel the tight clenching in her throat when she swallowed him down. She knew what he _needed_ , and she almost wanted to tease him - she wanted to play, build him up, work him until he was begging for her to finish him off.

But she had coffee waiting and she was starting to throb with a demanding need, and she knew if they started more she’d never leave his apartment, which would be amazing and great except _coffee_ and she needed to finish up some Christmas shopping.

Felicity let him go, sprawling her hands over his lower stomach as she took his entire length back into her mouth.

“Oh… _fuck_ ,” he gasped, his back arching again as he met her, thrusting up, his fingers digging into her hair.

Felicity’s head started moving up and down on him, slowly gaining speed, sucking on him, taking as much as she could into her mouth while dragging her tongue along the sensitive underside before letting her teeth slide over his hard shaft.

Oliver bucked underneath her, his hands tightening on her head, guiding her movements, moving her faster.

He was shaking, his thighs trembling around her, his muscles twitching with his oncoming release, his cock swelling…

“That feels so… so fucking good, oh god,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep and arousal, and it sent her own desire rocketing up again.

She wanted to pull her pants off and climb up his body, licking and sucking her way up until she reached his mouth… she wanted to crawl into his lap, feel his gorgeous hardness right where she needed it as she kissed him, letting him taste himself as she lifted herself up, his hands finding her hips, the head of his cock sliding through her wetness…

She moaned around him, making him hiss as the vibrations shot through him.

Felicity clamped her mouth down around him, sucking as hard as she could, earning her a hoarse shout from deep in his chest as his head fell back, every bit of his attention focused solely on her mouth and the pleasure she was giving him. Her name was a litany on his lips as she sucked him off, her hand moving to grip the base of his cock…

She squeezed him tightly there, her other hand dropping to his balls, gripping them in a tight fist.

“Yes, yes, _yes_ ,” he gasped.

He thrust up into her mouth, bumping the back of her throat, and she swallowed down her gag reflex as he fucked her mouth, the desperate whiny noises falling from his mouth making her feel like fire was racing through her veins as much as it made her feel powerful that she could bring this potent man to his knees like that.

Felicity released the base of his cock, moving even faster. Her neck ached its protest, but she barely felt it, only caring about bringing him to completion.

He gripped her hair in tight fists, his moan slowly growing louder until his voice was echoing through his apartment.

Felicity twisted his balls again, just enough, just enough to make him arch up off the couch with a, “Yes, yes, oh fuck,” his hips moving to meet her mouth as she pushed him closer and closer…

“Oh god, yes, yes… Felicity!”

Oliver came with a heady shout, spilling into her. His cum filled her mouth and she pulled away to swallow him down, making him groan louder as he pulled her head back mindlessly, thrusting shallowly into her mouth.

She sucked on him, sucking him dry until he had nothing left.

Oliver fell back on the couch, completely limp, gasping for air, his hands falling to her shoulders.

Felicity licked him clean, releasing his spent cock with a silent pop. She licked her lips, wiping the corners of her mouth before she stood up.

Felicity smiled down at him, clenching her thighs together - definitely, _definitely_ taking a shower before her errands - before she leaned over him, pressing a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek.

“Thanks for the sugar,” she whispered.

Oliver barely managed a whimper in return, trying to lift his hand in response, but he had no energy.

Felicity grinned, patted his cheek, and then she grabbed her sugar, and left, locking the door behind her.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	42. Across the Hall: Loud Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Felicity and Oliver live across the hall from each other.

Oliver didn’t bother knocking - she wouldn’t hear him over the music anyway. It was nearly three in the damn morning and he’d come home from work to not only find that she’d snuck over and taken some of his leftover homemade pizza - despite himself, it made him chuckle, because he knew she couldn’t cook worth a good goddamn - but also to the loud boom of music coming from her apartment.

He unlocked her door, pushing it open, wincing as the music got _louder._

“Felicity!” he shouted, turning on the hall light before entering the living room. “It’s three in the goddamn morning, what are you…?”

Oliver trailed off when he saw her.

She was on her stomach, sprawled out on her couch, one leg stretched out, tapping to the music that was coming from the record player on the floor next to her. Her hand hovered over the spinning record, her head moving in time with it, making the perfectly coiled curls she had in place bounce.

She was wearing one of his white dress shirts - he didn’t even remember leaving it there, which meant she’d probably taken it at some point… no, no, that was the shirt he’d worn after that gala thing at work and he’d come here instead of going to his own apartment - and nothing else.

Felicity Smoak was completely naked saved for his shirt and his body instantly hardened at the sight. She was a _vision_ , her toned legs and ass, all leading up to lush hips that tapered into a gentle waist, her skin _glowing_ against the white of his shirt.

She was naked, right there, and goddamn, if she just moved a little bit, she’d be straddling the edge of the couch where she could _rub_ …

Oliver swallowed, adjusting himself through his slacks.

_Damn._

She was completely oblivious to him, every bit of her attention focused on the music. She gyrated slightly on the couch, her hips moving against it as she danced. Felicity buried her face into a couch cushion, her body wiggling as she sang softly, the words muffled.

He swallowed again, watching her move on the couch - never in his life had he actually wanted to be a couch, but in this moment…

He wanted to be that damn couch.

She lifted her head again, the words flowing off her tongue.

She was drunk.

Oliver would’ve known it just by the way she was moving and the slur in her voice, but the empty bottle of wine knocked on its side, lying next to a half-empty bottle and a water glass full of red wine confirmed it.

_Classy._

She was drunk and wiggling on the couch half-naked, looking sinfully beautiful and Oliver suddenly had the image in his head of walking right over there and pulling her up on her knees, pressing his hand between her legs as he situated her on the edge, at the perfect height to thrust into her from behind…

Before he could finish that thought though, Felicity sat up again. She was still moving with the music as she abruptly reached over to pull the needle off the record, already looking for another record in the mess of them scattered all over the floor, the music from the current one dying a squeaky death.

The sudden rush of silence was almost deafening when she noticed him.

A grin erupted across her face.

“Oliver…” she said, biting her lip, pushing herself up onto her elbows. She still had on her makeup, a gorgeous compliment to her hair - she looked like she’d gone out that night. She smiled at him, wavering slightly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, nodding to the record player. “Are you trying to make everyone hate you?”

Felicity pouted and the sight of her plump lips made his hardening cock twitch. “No.”

“Then how about we keep the music down, huh?”

“Oh.” She looked down at the record player and then back at him. “Was it loud?”

“It was more than loud,” he said, moving to step back into the hallway - because he was going back to his place. Because it was three in the morning and he had another long day of work the next day and also because he knew if he took one more step towards her. he wouldn’t be leaving. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

“Were you working?” she asked, making him pause again as she stretched back out on the couch. Oliver’s eyes instantly followed the lean lines of her body, his mouth falling open of its own volition as he watched her move. “You’re dressed in work clothes.”

“Yeah, I just got home,” he said, his voice a little breathless.

He should be leaving, he should be going back to his place… but he wasn’t. Instead, he drank her in. Her legs were so long where they were laid out on the couch, and her ass… god, he _loved_ her ass. His palms itched to walk over and grip it, hear her quick intake as he spread her cheeks, opening her up for him…

“So that’s why you weren’t home,” Felicity mumbled, looking up at him through her curls.

“And that’s why you took my pizza.”

“Mm… you’re so much better at pizza than me,” she whispered, burrowing into the couch, biting her lip again.

Oliver barely bit back his groan.

He was moving towards her before he knew what he was doing.

“You look nice,” he said.

“Date,” she replied, still shifting on the couch. She sighed as she readjusted, arching her back to press her lower half in, digging her nails into the cushion, almost like she was… no, no, she was just moving. Just moving. “He was boring.”

Oliver chuckled. When he reached her, he crouched down next to her, moving the bottles and glass out of the way so they didn’t get knocked over before reaching over to brush the curls off her face.

“So is that why you’re laying naked on your couch blaring music?”

“I’m not naked,” she mumbled, giving him that little pout again.

Oliver let out a shaky breath, his eyes dancing down her body. No, definitely not _entirely_ naked.

But it’d be so easy to get there. His shirt was barely buttoned on her.

When his eyes reached her face again, she was staring at him. He watched her eyes grow darken, her face flushing the longer he stared at her.

Felicity didn’t say anything as she shifted to the edge of the couch, reaching for his hand. She laced her fingers through his, licking her lips before she pulled it up on the couch with her and down the length of her body.

His eyes followed her movements, his breathing growing heavy, knowing exactly what she was doing.

“Oliver,” she whispered, her voice heavy with need and then she lifted her hips, pushing their hands down between her legs.

Felicity pushed their fingers against her sex - _god_ , she was so wet - slipping through her juices as she pressed them in further, a whimpered moan falling from her lips. Her eyes closed as she slowly rotated her hips, spreading her legs slightly so they could reach her clit.

“God, Felicity,” Oliver breathed, his eyes on her hips, her slick wetness coating his fingers.

She pushed him closer, a harsh pant slipping from her lips as she spread her legs further, seeking more friction.

“Oliver…” Her brow furrowed, her body tightening, needing _more_.

He choked out a groan, his hand falling down to the heavy bulge in his pants.

“Please…”

“Don’t stop,” he whispered. Felicity nodded frantically, sucking her lip between her teeth as Oliver stood up. He kept his hand laced with hers buried between her legs - he stiffened his fingers, rubbing right against her clit, making her whine for him - and he climbed onto the couch with her, blanketing her body with his just enough to increase the pressure…

He pressed his hard cock against her ass, the smooth material of his pants slipping over her gentle curves and pushed her down against their hands.

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped, her hips jerking. “Yes…”

Oliver held himself up on his elbow to keep most of his weight off her, but he didn’t spare her nearly as much as he could have, pushing her deep into the couch, pressing their hands harder against her.

She gave him a sharp cry as she rocked against their fingers, the noises falling from her growing louder as she grew wetter, soaking both of them.

Oliver rotated his hips, thrusting down, sending a wicked jolt of pleasure searing though him as he rubbed his length against her. He leaned over her, nuzzling the back of her neck, making her shiver underneath him as he thrust down, mimicking her movements over and over, following her lead as she rubbed herself with their fingers.

“Yes, oh god, yes, yes… don’t stop, don’t stop,” she whimpered desperately, her hips moving faster, and he didn’t. He thrust down harder, increasing the pressure, making her cry out.

“Come for me, Felicity,” Oliver whispered, thrusting her down against their hands, his voice cracking as he rode her himself. He wanted to feel her fall apart around him, feel her come apart at the seams, feel her trembling underneath him, her little clit growing more and more tender until there was nothing left but oblivion. She cried out, thrusting into their hands, rubbing her clit right over both of their fingers, harder and harder, more… “Come, Felicity… come for me.”

“Oliver…” she cried. “Oliver, Oliver, oh god, oh god, oh… aaah!”

She stiffened underneath him, her hips moving in a flurry, chasing her release, chasing oblivion… and then she came with a vicious shout, a sound that ripped out of her chest and echoed through the apartment, her juices flooding both of them, her sex clenching with a needy desperation, her clit trembling under his touch…

Oliver rubbed himself against her, the friction making him grit his teeth as he got another aftershock out of her, her entire body jerking with the force of it before she yanked their fingers out from between her legs with a whimpered, “Too much, too much.”

He was still hard, painfully fucking hard…

“Felicity,” he groaned.

“Oliver,” she breathed. “Oliver… oh god…”

Oliver climbed off her and gently rolled her over onto her back before lifting her up into his arms, carrying her into her bedroom.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	43. 3x20 Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous: For some reason, since we never got a REAL morning after scene in 3x20. I've been sitting here with this headcanon that after they had sex, they just laid there and Oliver couldn't stop kissing Felicity. Sorry I had to get that out somewhere! You seemed like the best person to tell it to haha.

Pleasure radiated across the surface of her skin, dancing along her nerves, pulsing through her. She felt it in her bones, in every muscle, every tendon… it wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced before; it was _deeper_ , the way he’d touched her, the way he whispered her name as he thrust into her, his hand slipping between them to push her over the edge…

He was good at just about everything, including this - very, very good - but it wasn’t just that. It was because it was _Oliver_  touching her, kissing her, filling her… because she’d told him she loved him - and _god_ , did she love him, with every fiber of her being - and the second she’d said those simple, earth-shattering words, she’d watched his entire world open up in his eyes… because she’d given him _everything_ , and he’d held back _nothing._

_Perfect._

Felicity shifted, pulling her legs up higher, cradling him between her thighs, forcing him to settle deeper inside her as she pressed soft kisses to his temple, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck. He gave her a whimpered sigh, the sound muffled where his face was buried in her throat, pressing his hips closer to hers, not wanting to leave her heat yet either.

But it couldn’t last… and they both knew it.

With a groan, Oliver moved, slowly pulling out of her. They didn’t have time, they _really_  didn’t have time, and she expected him to maybe give her another kiss, a soft, chaste kiss that would resonate deep inside her before getting up, getting dressed, going back to the cold, harsh reality waiting for them…

But he didn’t do any of those things.

Oliver slipped out of her and dropped to the bed, keeping her close, never letting her leave his embrace. He kept himself pressed to her as tightly as he possibly could, pulling her flush against him. He wrapped her up in his arms, tangling their legs together, his nose brushing against hers when he dipped his head down, pressing his forehead against hers lovingly, touching her like she was something so, so precious to him, something he couldn’t bear to be without…

Tears blurred her vision and Felicity closed her eyes, snuggling closer to him, wrapping herself around him as much as he was her.

This was their moment, this tiny little blip in time was all they had, all they’d get.

He didn’t speak when a tear fell, landing on his chest, and neither did she.

Instead, he kissed her.

It was soft and languid, easy and open, all the kisses they’d never get wrapped up in one. It was the kisses they hadn’t let themselves have since the moment the words  _‘I love you’_ had left his lips, the kisses they’d been denied in the last months. It was the kisses they’d never get in the future, the kisses they couldn’t have because he would no longer be hers… because he belonged to the League now.

“Oliver,” she whispered, his name coming out in a desperate choke and he whispered a gentle, “Shh,” his lips trembling against hers.  


And then he kissed her again, and again, quiet kisses that turned into deeper ones as he explored her, and she him, taking her time, memorizing how he tasted, how he felt, before they slipped back to simple, easy ones…

This was their moment, and they didn’t waste a single second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/135789108459/for-some-reason-since-we-never-got-a-real-morning)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	44. Mine, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: obliviouschickwithagun - "Can we eventually see more of jealous!Oliver from chapter 8 of heartbeats?"
> 
> Follow-up to [Chapter 8](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3578253/chapters/8228896), in the same 'verse - an alternate version of Season 5.

“Talk to me, Felicity.” His breath was hot and damp against her ear. “Say it.”

He blanketed her, the length of his body pressed against her as tight as he could, holding her hostage against the head of the chaise sofa. He used the floor as leverage where he straddled the lounger, used it to thrust into her with deep, _hard_  strokes. He went so _deep_ , filling her. She lost track of where she began and he ended. He was _everywhere._

“Oliver…”

She held onto him, helpless to do anything but gasp for air.

He kissed the shell of her ear, dragging her earlobe between his teeth for a small nip before sucking on it. He pushed his face against hers, his stubble scraping deliciously across her sweaty skin as he pushed her legs up even higher, stretching her open for his use, spreading her until there was nothing left but whatever he wanted to do to her.

The thought had her moaning and her wet inner walls clamped around him.

His breath hitched and he pushed her knees against her chest, leaning in closer until there was nothing left but them. The move pinched her breasts, twisting her nipples until they burned.

The pain went straight to her core, amplifying her pleasure to near-blinding levels.  


“Yes,” she whimpered, pressing her face into his neck. “Oh _god_.”

“ _Felicity_.”  


She shivered at the demand in his voice. She knew what he wanted to hear, just like she’d known exactly what would happen the second he caught sight of the new detective cornering her at the fundraiser. 

The detective had questions, suspicions, concerns, all about the Green Arrow. And _her_. Probably because she’d taken advantage of his crush on her and used him to run a few tests. Because she’d bribed him with coffee to look up some fingerprints that weren’t in the database yet. Because she’d swiped evidence off his desk when he wasn’t looking. 

The conversation had been perfectly innocent, up until he’d maneuvered the conversation to ask her out. Oliver had appeared just in time to hear it. And as if that wasn’t enough, he’d been right there to see the detective’s hand lingering on her bare upper arm. The dark look that’d crossed his face would have meant something very bad for Malone had Felicity not sidestepped the detective and met Oliver halfway. 

 _“Did you need to see me?”_ she’d asked and Oliver had replied, his jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving Malone’s,  _“Yes. Now.”_

Their breakup had been public, but their reconciliation was all private. Nobody knew about them being together again, not yet, and that was on purpose, because they needed to learn how to be together again, on their own terms, just _them_.

It made for some very _interesting_  conversations, such as this one, where things dissolved from a conscious, level-headed discussion about their feelings to Oliver pinning her to the chaise in his mayoral office, their ripped clothes on the floor, the moonlight shining through the large picture window highlighting the dominating gleam in his eye.

His muscles were taut, his body shaking with the effort to maintain the slow, steady pace that was slowly driving her _mad_. He’d already made her come once with his hand and his mouth sucking on her breast hard enough to bruise, so she was already so…

 _T_ _ender_.

_Sensitive._

_Used_.

And he was using it against her in the best way possible.

Her strangled cries and gasps grew louder as he built her back up. It was slow, so slow, spiraling out from her center like lava. She trembled, her lips parted, her skin flush, her nails aching where she gripped his firm ass. She tried to make him go faster, to make him thrust _harder, deeper_  but he was stronger than her, and he was dead set on doing this his way.

The chair shuddered underneath them with each hard thrust.

Her pleasure swelled, but it wasn’t _enough_. 

She needed more, she needed harder, she needed him to _take her_ , but he wasn’t.

“Oliver, _please_.”  


“Say it.” He surrounded her, taking over. He filled her so completely, her legs pressed up against her chest, his lips dragging against her cheek until he reached her mouth. He kissed her, softly, so softly; it was the complete opposite of his heavy thrusts. He pressed his forehead against hers, his pants for air matching hers. He was shaking, but his voice was steady as he demanded, “ _Tell me_.”

“I’m…”  


He thrust into her _hard_ , and she cried out so loud it echoed in the office. 

“Say it,” he hissed.   


_Harder_. 

The chair’s legs scraped against the ground, his pelvis slapping into hers. 

It was so good, so, so good.

 _More_.

“Talk to me, Felicity… tell me…” He captured her lips in a rough kiss, his stubble digging into her chin harshly. She returned the kiss with equal ardor, her teeth nipping at his lips, crashing against his. When he pulled back, his voice was strangled and uneven, but no less demanding as he said, “Only I can kiss you… taste you… _feel you_ …”  


“Yes…”

“ _Say it_.”  


“Oliver…” she gasped breathlessly. “I’m yours.” He thrust into her so hard it hurt and she mewled, digging her nails into him. “I’m yours. Yours… _yours._ ”  


“Yes…” Oliver pushed on his toes where they rested on the ground, changing the angle of his thrust, hitting her in the _very right spot_. Felicity shouted, her toes curling. He thrust faster, shoving her into the chaise. “ _Mine,”_ he growled with each one. “You’re _mine_.”

Everything around her faded away, everything but him, but the pistoning of his hips, the swell of his cock inside her, his length scraping against the edge of the clit _just right_. 

Fire licked through her veins, sending a shocking wave of white hot pleasure shooting out from her core. Her skin tingled, her lungs burned, pinpricks dancing against the soles of her feet as she got closer. The wet sound of her sex and the slap of skin echoed their combined cries of pleasure. She reached that precipice of that euphoric point where she just needed one last push… where the pleasure zinged through her, vibrating along every single nerve… where she felt every heady inch of him…  


Felicity came with a sharp, ragged shout of his name.

Oliver collapsed against her, shoving his arms underneath her to cradle her closer, thrusting into her with wild abandon. 

Felicity clung to him, her mouth open in a silent scream, his thrusts dragging her pleasure out. He buried his face in her neck, his grunts muffled against her throat. The tiny vibrations triggered her once more, a tiny orgasm that hooked on the heels of the last one and made her see stars. 

His fingers gripped her so hard where he held her they would bruise as he chased his own pleasure, his grunts formed in the shape of her name, growing louder than hers. 

With one last cry, Oliver thrust into her as deep as he could, emptying himself inside her with a final groan and shudder.

It was complete surrender and for that beautiful second, his soul matched hers, his heart stripped completely bare, his body and mind open to her as he gave her _everything._

She was his, oh yes… 

But he was hers, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/155586485809/can-we-eventually-see-more-of-jealousoliver-from)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


End file.
